The Third Apprentice
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: After her world collapses Veronica is brought to become Merlin's apprentice. Upon meeting the two other apprentices she quickly learns to keep on her toes. Part I in the All the Right Moves series. Eventual Veronica/Balthazar.
1. Chapter 1

"Halt!"

One of the two cloaked riders being addressed stopped abruptly in the middle of the road, pulling sharply on the reigns of their horse. Merlin shook his head at the immediate show of obedience. Granted the child had been subject to the orders of every official since birth, but they were an apprentice now and things were different.

Some sort of respect was due to the practitioners of the art, respect to the common traveller, or at least respect to the elderly and the very young. It was unfortunate the guard was simply not giving any of the three. Unfortunate for him that was. So, without a second thought, he continued forward.

"I said halt," the guard said angrily, moving his horse closer, "Are you deaf man?"

"I see no reason why two travelers should be stopped without reason," Merlin answered, his voice calm and reasonable.

The guard snorted.

"The royal progress is coming this way," he said, "And I doubt very much that their majesties of Lothain and Orkney would care to be held up by peasants."

Merlin smiled. Oh dear, the man really didn't know his sovereigns, did he?

"Oh really?" he asked, "Tell me, how long have you been in their employ? No more than a few weeks I should wager."

The guard flushed angrily and drew his sword. Merlin could practically feel the nervousness of his new apprentice. Again, that was understandable. They were new to their art, and some places in England actually burned the sorcerers unlucky enough to be caught. Even so, they were about to learn an interesting lesson.

"You'll pay for that!" the guard thundered.

"I rather think I won't," he said nonchalantly, rubbing his hands together.

"You dare-!"

"What's this then?"

Another rider cantered up, his raiment obviously of better quality than the other's. His face was bright and he couldn't have been more than twenty. His face was also rather familiar. Sighing Merlin eased his mind away from the spell he had been planning on. It would do no good now. The guard paled before stammering;

"No….nothing Prince Gawain. It…it's ju…just…some peasants who won't get out of the way."

"Uh huh," Gawain said, looking at the guard with plain displeasure, "And you normally go around and threaten people in your way?"

"Well I-" stammered the guard.

"Don't answer that," he said before turning to the two travelers, "I'm sorry about this. The royal house is not in the habit of-"

Gawain frowned and cocked his head.

"I'm sorry, this may sound rather strange, but do I know you?"

Raising his eyebrow Merlin withdrew his hood and gave a terse reply;

"I should think you do Gawain."

For a minute Gawain looked at him in shock. Then he bellowed out a laugh.

"Merlin!" he yelled, dismounting from his horse, "Why didn't you say so sooner?"

"I was simply trying to teach my young apprentice a lesson," Merlin replied as he grasped hands with the young man.

"And an interesting lesson I'm sure it would've been if I hadn't interfered," Gawain said, shooting the guard a dirty look, "Go back to the rest."

Now looking as though he were about to vomit the guard turned around and galloped back the way he came. Gawain shook his head once before turning back to the old man.

"It's hard to find good help these days. So, you've got a new one then?" he asked, interested, "This is what, your third?"

"Third and last," Merlin laughed, "Finding these children is taking a toll on these tired old bones."

He motioned towards the figure on the horse.

"Come now, don't be shy," he said, "This may be the first royal you've met, but it'll by no means be the last."

Hesitating only a minute the figure stepped lightly off the horse. It took a few steps before coming into a deep curtsey. The gesture was almost instinctive but not very well practiced. Merlin was sure it would get better as time went on though.

"May I introduce Veronica of Scarborough."

The ten-year old girl straightened uncertainly. She practically shrunk back into her cloak as she waited on what happened next. In his turn Gawain gave a short nod of his head in recognition before turning back to Merlin.

"Taking on a girl now?" he asked, "And Scarborough is some distance away."

"I travelled a good way for all of my apprentices."

"Well yes but…never mind," he said, "And how are you finding the craft?"

The last question was directed at Veronica with a cheerful patronization. Her eyebrows raised but she said nothing. Gawain opened his mouth to repeat the question but Merlin held up a hand to stop him and shook his head. Shrugging Gawain went on to say;

"My mother will be thrilled to see you again. And father…well…he's always thrilled at whatever mother's thrilled at. We're on our way to Camelot ourselves, royal visit. We would be honored if you would accompany us."

"The honor would be all mine," Merlin said pleasantly, "Travel has been somewhat rough in these past days. Come Veronica."

The small girl scurried to get back on her horse. Gawain looked at her oddly.

"Not very talkative, is she?"

Merlin shook his head.

"While her power is undeniable she does not speak," he said, "Not often in any case."

"That shy huh?"

For a moment Merlin contemplated telling him the truth. It was only for a moment though. Even though Gawain was a good man, an excellent fighter and loyal to the bone he was also somewhat stupid. It didn't take much to outsmart him. He certainly took after his father rather than his mother, much to his disadvantage.

"Indeed," he said, avoiding a deliberate untruth, "It is a radical change of lifestyle for her after all."

"My only worry is how you're going to handle her with those two boys you've got," Gawain said, "If half of what my brothers write home and tell me is true than you've got your hands full."

"You've seen them before, you know what they're like," said Merlin with a touch of irritation.

"Only at state occasions," remarked Gawain, "That's the only time you let them out of that keep of yours. Maybe if you let them out more often than they wouldn't-"

"They need peace to learn," interrupted Merlin sharply before the young man could finish giving him instructions on how to train **his** apprentices, "And adding another to their number should balance them out."

"Just as you say Lord Merlin," Gawain said meekly, "Just as you say."


	2. Chapter 2

Veronica had seen nobility before. They had ridden through her village when she was younger even than she was now. Every now and then would step outside of their litters. However, she had never seen anything like the royal progress. She had assumed that all royals simply had a retinue with a simple livery. A group of soldiers, servants, litters, and carts with flags and pennants was not what she had estimated.

Royalty proved to not be what she expected either. Gawain was much louder than she expected nobility to be. Merlin had told her that they were people, just the same as everyone else, but from what her ten-year old self had seen they seemed to be a completely different species. However, if Gawain didn't fit her expectations, than his mother destroyed them.

She had first noticed the woman when Merlin had entered the court progress. The woman had clapped her hands excitedly, and then there had been some hushed whispers. Merlin had pointed to Veronica at one point, and she had followed his finger to the girl. Soon after she had gotten out of her litter and approached her.

"What's your name?" asked Queen Morgause.

She seemed to genuinely want to know the little girl's name, which both surprised and frightened Veronica. There were other intimidating factors as well though. For one thing she was a stranger, and was quite possibly the most beautiful woman that Veronica had ever seen.

"Veronica of Scarborough," supplied Merlin.

She looked at him gratefully. Morgause frowned for a minute, as though she had been hoping for the girl to answer. Her next question she directed back to Veronica;

"A little shy are we? Don't worry, I'll more than make up for it. I'm somewhat famous for my talkative ways," she said, smiling to herself as though it were a private joke, "You can just nod or shake your head and I'll keep the questions simple. Have you been travelling long?"

Veronica nodded.

"Tired?"

There was another nod.

"You can ride in the litter then," Morgause said, "I know riding is a little airier and much less confining, but it really is more convenient sometimes to ride in one of these, especially if it's raining. Unless you don't want to of course."

For a second Veronica contemplated shaking her head. The idea of being caged in such a way didn't appeal to her. Then, out of the corner of her eye she saw Merlin jerk her head towards the carriage. The idea of being alone with these strange people panicked her slightly, but she turned her attention back to the woman and nodded her head. She had learned to trust Merlin since he had found her, and she knew he must have a reason for wanting her with this odd Queen.

Gently taking her hand Morgause helped her in. The curtains had barely when a terse voice asked;

"What's happening?"

"We had the luck of meeting Lord Merlin on the road," explained Morgause, "This is his new apprentice. Isn't she lovely?"

The woman raised her eyebrows in distaste and her mouth contorted like it was full of salt. Her noise was almost perpendicular to the air and her expression of haughty disdain was something to behold. **This** was what Veronica had expected royalty to be like. Morgause shook her head.

"Please don't mind my sister," she said, "She hates these long carriage rides."

"And peasant girls in rags polluting my air," her sister added.

"Morgana," Morgause said in a voice that suggested that she was talking about the weather, "I'll not be having that."

Snorting Morgana turned and looked towards the cloth walls of the litter.

"Like I said, don't mind her," Morgause said, "Now then, excited about seeing Camelot? It's supposed to be lovely around spring."

Veronica shook her head. Morgause frowned again, and then her expression softened.

"Nervous about meeting the other two apprentices?"

This time Veronica nodded, somewhat emphatically. How could she not be nervous about meeting two strange boys who were not only older than her, but also from what her master said so much more progressed in their craft? It was bad enough to go into a new place without feeling like she was going to be humiliated to boot.

"Don't worry about it," said Morgause with a gentle smile, "You'll learn fast enough. Merlin's chosen you, so you're bound to be talented. And I'm sure they'll like you."

"Doubtful," Morgana said.

"The girl's already nervous enough without you making things worse," Morgause said harshly, "If you can't say anything constructive than don't say it at all."

"I'll say something constructive," Morgana said, leaning toward the girl and peering at her as though she were something to be scraped from the bottom of her boot, "You're a sorceress, or at least an apprentice, and that raises you somewhat higher than most of that mindless rabble out there. But remember this; whatever nonsense my sister and that mad magician out there spout you had better learn to stay in your place."

Veronica saw Morgause move her mouth, speechless. Ignoring her sister's reaction Morgana smiled and remained staring at Veronica. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, until she realized that that was what Morgana wanted. Her jaw set firmly. She was never crying again, not in front of anyone, and especially not in front of this awful woman. So instead of crying, she stuck out her tongue.

Morgana drew back, insulted. Seeing that her own sister was trying very hard indeed not to burst out into laughter she snarled and flipped the curtains of the litter aside before stepping outside. As soon as she left Morgause let loose and was in hysterics for the next few minutes.

"Wonderful, she'll be in a mood about that for days," Morgause said, calming down but still having to repress the occasional chuckle, "People rarely get the best of her."

She smiled before continuing.

"I think you're going to be just fine with those boys. If you can stand up to my sister I think you can stand up to anyone. She's a very powerful sorceress, has been since we were little. But sometimes she can be…well, you've seen her."

She paused for a minute before continuing;

"Never had the gift myself. I mean, the gem on my ring barely has any color in it at all."

Her elegant hand extended and Veronica saw a milky-white quartz stone set into a silver ring. It was tinted ever so slightly pink. She was untrained, so she had no idea what that meant. Her own ring had been given to her several years ago, a simple iron band with a clear stone. From the way Morgause was talking about it though, she could tell that it was important.

"It's very cloudy too," she said, "You should see my sister's; all deep red and clear as a bell. Heaven knows my parents tried to get me trained well, but things just didn't work out. I can do a few simple things…but no matter. Life goes on, you know?"

Veronica nodded, somewhat confused by the tangent.

"You know what?" asked Morgause, "I think I have an idea."

She pushed aside the curtains of the litter and addressed one of the footmen in hushed whispers. After a minute he took off and Morgause drew back inside of the litter.

"You'll need some new clothes," she said, "I know I'm much taller than you, but I don't think anyone can do a shrinking spell quite the way I can. These clothes will literally grow with you."

Veronica made gestures of protest which Morgause waved away.

"I don't need them anymore, and I doubt that Lord Merlin will have anything for a girl to wear at his tower," she said, "He'll probably be able to scrounge up something, but he really has no fashion sense at all. And, if bad comes to worse…well, I'll not have you wearing boys' clothes when I can help."

Idly Morgause tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"And again, don't pay any attention to my sister or those like her. From what my boys wrote me Merlin's apprentices are well-behaved and quite studious."


	3. Chapter 3

"You cheated!"

"How dare you!"

Balthazar looked up from his book briefly to see his fellow apprentice up in arms against Gaheris, one of the Princes of Orkney. He had hoped that the day would be somewhat restful given that the weather was so good, in other words it had just stopped raining, that Horvath himself had suggested that they go outside. It appeared that the world had other plans.

Sighing he snapped the book shut and got up as the boy's brothers started voicing their opinions.

"My brother doesn't cheat!" Gareth insisted.

Horvath waved the smallest of the princes away.

"That's what you think."

"How could he have cheated?" demanded Agravaine, "I dealt the cards!"

"Exactly!" Horvath argued.

"Someone is a very sore loser," said Gaheris.

"Look," Balthazar interjected, knowing from experience that the Orkney princes were tireless searchers of a brawl, "it doesn't matter. It's not like you were betting money or anything…"

There was a rather uncomfortable pause.

"Come on Maxim!" he moaned, "You know we're not supposed to be gambling!"

"It's not like it was that much…" Horvath said.

"Well that's good-wait," Balthazar said slowly, "Since when did you have spare cash?"

The guilty look on the fifteen-year old's face was all he needed.

"That was part of the food allowance, wasn't it?" he asked, sounding pained.

"…maybe."

The only thought that went through Balthazar's mind after that point was; if Merlin finds out, he'll kill us. With one swift turn of his heel he yelled at Gaheris;

"You cheated!"

"Oh, very much for justice when it suits you?" came an oily voice from the side.

The two apprentices exchanged irritated glances.

"Stay out of this Mordred," Horvath growled.

"Or what?" the boy said, slinking up to stand next to his cousins, "You'll throw a few of your little spells at us? I rather hope you do. I have a few of my own you know."

His cousins laughed, but it was hinged with unease. No one much liked Mordred and the gleam in his eyes when there was a possibility of violence. He could put a dragon on edge.

"Let's just give back all the winnings," Balthazar said, deciding that going back to being reasonable was probably the best course, "And next time we do this we'll just bet something else."

"Which is the perfect solution," said Mordred pleasantly, "for an idiot. Tell me Balthazar, is stupidity genetic? Your brother certainly seems to have it in spades. Does it come from all the knocks he takes in the lists?"

Balthazar's eyes narrowed. While his brother Letholdus was considered to be one of the best knight in the jousts, he had taken a wound two months ago that had laid him up for several weeks. For a while his condition had looked like it could've been fatal, an incident which was unpleasantly fresh in Balthazar's memory.

He could feel Horvath tense up beside him as well. Noticing this Agravaine nudged Mordred.

"I think you're taking it too far," he said.

"Nonsense," Mordred said, his tone still bright, "I'm quite sure that the idiot's brother's fat friend feels the same way as well-"

"That does it!" Horvath shouted, launching himself at Mordred.

Although the brothers didn't favor their cousin overmuch, he was still their kinsman and was being attacked. They soon joined in and Balthazar lost sight of Horvath in the midst of the struggle. Deciding then that Horvath would soon be beaten to a pulp and wanting to get a few in himself because of Mordred's little digs, he joined them.

Magic could have easily solved this problem. However, Merlin had always taught them not to use magic against those who couldn't in a fair fight. If they were trying to kill you then that was different, but otherwise it was forbidden. Besides, the kind of anger Balthazar was currently feeling prompted a reaction that was purely physical.

The ground churned beneath their feet as Balthazar's fist made contact with Agravaine's jaw. In return he was tackled and pushed to the ground. The impact made him hit his head, which momentarily disoriented him. Taking full advantage of this Agravaine got to his knees and started hitting Balthazar repeatedly in the face.

Feeling blood trickling down his forehead Balthazar pulled back his feet and kicked Agravaine in the chest. The older boy was sent sprawling backwards and into the mud. However, Balthazar had barely any time to get to his feet before he charged again. Realizing what he was planning to do in time, he neatly sidestepped him and let gravity take it from there.

Balthazar paused to catch his breath, but only for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Horvath was busy fighting both Gaheris and Mordred at the same time, which accounted for the rest of the clan. Being much too young to participate fully Gareth had retreated to the sidelines to cheer his brothers on. Barreling over Balthazar knocked Mordred to the ground, letting his opponent's face fall into the mud.

"How's that for being stupid?" growled Balthazar, lifting Mordred's face off the ground a few inches by his hair.

"That's not particularly original," Mordred gasped.

Thoroughly angry Balthazar slammed his face into the mud again. He did it three more times before he heard a voice bellow;

"BALTHAZAR! HORVATH!"

Balthazar looked up to see Merlin standing not four feet away from him. Behind him stood several people that he'd never seen before, but he recognized the crest that they bore. He froze, his fingers still tangled in Mordred's hair.

"Is this," Merlin asked dangerously, "how the two of you interpret 'behave yourselves while I'm away'?"

Knowing better then to answer Balthazar and Horvath kept quiet.

"You would do well to release him now Balthazar," Merlin said, his eyes flickering down to where Balthazar still remained ready to slam Mordred's face into the ground.

"Yes sir," Balthazar said, dropping Mordred's head so that it slumped into the ground and getting to his feet.

After a moment he heard Horvath shuffle up beside him.

"Disgraceful," Merlin said, "Absolutely disgraceful. And what was this about?"

Both of the apprentices shared furtive looks.

"You'll find reason to be talkative soon enough when you're cleaning the kitchens!" he thundered.

Balthazar winced. Behind him he heard Agravaine snicker;

"Someone's in trouble."

"And don't think you're not!" a shrill voice called.

"Shit," Agravaine groaned.

"That's right," Morgause said, stepping out of the litter, "We're embarrassed of you. Aren't we Lot?"

A brawny man nodded enthusiastically at his wife's words, somewhat eager to agree

"How long were you here?" asked Agravaine, blanching.

"Long enough!" she said, striding forward angrily to stand beside Merlin, "We send you to King Arthur's court to learn how to be knights! We didn't do it so you could…could…ugh!"

She threw up her hands in disgust. Horvath nudged Balthazar.

"See, it could be worse."

"Oh yes it could," Merlin agreed, grabbing both of the boys' ears painfully and pulling them forward, "The kitchens are only for fighting. When I find out the **reason **then you're going to-"

Whatever punishment Merlin had in mind was drowned out by laughter. As one the assembly turned to see a small girl standing just outside of the litter that Morgause had come from. She was bent over double, laughing so hard that she was crying. Her laugh was somehow infectious and soon Morgause had joined in with her. Even Merlin let out a wry chuckle.

"Well," he said, "I had intended to introduce my old apprentices to my new one. But two mud-splattered ruffians will have to do."

He jerked his head and the girl stopped laughing and scurried up. She gave a small curtsey as Merlin said;

"Veronica, this is Balthazar and Horvath, the boys who will be carrying all of your things, and several articles of** very** heavy furniture, up to your new room at the top of the tower."

As one both boys groaned.


	4. Chapter 4

"I wish she'd stop looking at us like that," muttered Horvath.

"Like what?" asked Balthazar, momentarily looking up from the treatise he was supposed to be copying.

Their apprenticeship to Merlin encompassed more than just magic, which simply took up the mornings. The afternoons were spent on entirely different things, such as academics and some basic combat skills later in the day. Certain afternoons were set apart for basic alchemy, mathematics, and literature.

Although Balthazar and Horvath had entered his service already knowing how to read and write, he took it upon himself to teach them languages as well. Balthazar was currently trying to translate Latin into vernacular German and then back into Latin. Horvath was working on something similar, only into vernacular Spanish.

Veronica, however, had not known how to read or write. She had looked at the library like she had never seen a book before, and she probably never had. From what Balthazar had gleaned she had been assigned to trace letters in the hopes of soon starting a correspondence with the Queen of Orkney whom she'd befriended on her journey. Every now and then she would go and refill her inkwell, then return to her seat near the back. Other than that she was an almost non-existent presence in the library.

She was also an almost non-existent presence in their world. Her room was far removed from theirs, so it wasn't like they could bump into each other in the mornings. It wasn't as though Balthazar thought it appropriate that girls and boys should be quartered together, but it still placed her rather far away from them.

During their lessons she sat quietly in the corner, watching. Balthazar couldn't help but wonder if she had her lessons later, since she never seemed to participate in theirs.

"You know what I mean. Like she's trying to keep from laughing."

Balthazar raised his eyebrows and looked briefly over his shoulder. Veronica sat at the table behind them, bent over her work. He noticed that she was biting her lip but smiling. Looking up and seeing that he was watching she gave out a quick giggle and bent down back to her own work.

"And then there are the times when she doesn't even **try**."

Shrugging Balthazar turned back to the table and dipped his quill in the ink.

"The feeling's mutual," he said, "But it's not like we don't deserve it."

"It was just a brawl!" Horvath protested.

Quickly Balthazar shot him a look which made his voice go down immediately. It wouldn't do to have her overhearing their conversation.

"Yeah, it was just a brawl," Balthazar said, "And then there were the twelve hours of back-breaking labor bringing things up the stairs."

"That wasn't that bad.

"Accompanied of course by the stubbed toes and rather loud curses, all of which she heard."

"That wasn't-"

"Then there was when you dropped that trunk downstairs so it tripped me and made me drop what **I **was carrying which in turn knocked down the chairs like some sort of jester act-"

"Aw come on, I apologized didn't I?"

"Then there was the incident with that hat-"

"All the same," Horvath interrupted, "She's the new apprentice, she shouldn't be laughing at her betters."

"Now the root of the problem is revealed. Humiliated by a ten-year old girl laughing at you?" asked Balthazar.

"Don't tell me you aren't."

"I'm fourteen."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm just not that bothered by what ten-year old girls think," shrugged Balthazar, "Not yet anyway."

"You will be when you get like me."

"Maxim, there's a world of difference between you and me."

"A year's worth," growled Horvath, "And she's not talking to us either, don't forget about that."

"Master said she doesn't speak often," shrugged Balthazar.

"Often is an understatement. She's been here nearly two months," Horvath said, "It's time she acknowledged our existence, oh eternally patient one."

"If I wasn't patient than I'd never have learned to put up with you," Balthazar said, returning to his work.

Horvath rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, are you getting permission to go to that one jousting tournament?"

"No," Balthazar answered, somewhat bitter, "The first one my brother's in for months and I need to stay in. Think we're still getting punished?"

"Hey, we haven't seen the Orkney princes around lately," Horvath said consolingly, "They might be in even more trouble than we are."

"I saw Mordred yesterday."

"Well he's not a prince," pointed out Horvath, "He's just their cousin with a sour mother who dotes on him for **some** reason."

"Can't be his charm, I'll tell you that."

"Agreed."

Reaching for a bag Horvath took some sand from it and sprinkled it on his paper to dry the ink. While his speaking skills were poor, his penmanship and written word were excellent. With a flourish he picked up the piece of parchment and rolled it up as Balthazar watched enviously.

"Well, I'm off to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the afternoon," he said grandly, "Enjoy that translation."

"I hate you."

"See you soon."

As soon as Horvath left the room Balthazar felt something hit his back. Frowning he turned around to see Veronica looking at him intently. Her eyes flickered downwards and instinctively he followed her gaze to see the projectile she had thrown; a crumpled up piece of paper.

"All right then," Balthazar growled, getting up.

Veronica shook her head furiously and pointed to the piece of paper. Finally getting the message Balthazar stooped down to pick it up. Smoothing it out he saw written in a very shaky hand;

"_I hope your brother wins that tournament_."

"Uh, thanks?" he said.

Laughing Veronica collected her things and left the room. As she did a thought came to his mind that made his blood run cold. If she had heard the bit about his brother, and she obviously had, what else had she heard?


	5. Chapter 5

"The day it stops raining in this stupid country," Horvath grumbled, "will be the day of the rapture."

Balthazar nodded grimly and gave Horvath a sympathetic look. Mostly their lessons were done inside but on that particular day Merlin had decided to give them a lesson in natural magic. Unfortunately the weather hadn't wanted to cooperate and it was raining so hard that even their woolen cloaks were soaked through. They had pushed back their hoods long ago, deciding that their hair and faces were already wet enough so that it wouldn't matter.

The mud also made things horribly slippery, it had been so in the past, but now there was someone to laugh at them when they fell. Much to their chagrin Merlin and Veronica never seemed to lose their balance, which made the laughter, when it came, even worse to handle. Horvath and Balthazar had both independently agreed to fall quietly from then on out, but Veronica constantly looked over her shoulder to see if they would do it again.

"So where are we going exactly?" asked Balthazar.

"Stop asking," Merlin replied.

The two male apprentices shared a look.

"You should've known better," commented Horvath, "The day he answers our questions will be the day of the rapture."

"Stop comparing things to the rapture," ordered Merlin, "We're out here for a practical lesson."

He halted into a clearing surrounded by dying trees.

"Now then," he said, "Natural magic is quite like all the other forms that you're familiar with, and it's much like transformation. Only problem is that the things are living and what does that mean?"

Merlin suddenly looked at them threateningly.

"You all should know this. It was in last night's reading. Now what does working with a living material mean?"

Horvath began to feel panic. With one thing and another he hadn't actually read the chapter; more like skimmed it.

"It won't want to be tampered with?" Balthazar ventured.

Holding back a sigh he looked over gratefully at Balthazar, who seemed to do nothing **but** read.

"Basically right," said Merlin, "So this will be much harder than anything you've done with chairs and tables, basically dead materials. In other words, you must completely clear your mind for this spell to even begin to work. Understand?"

The three of them nodded.

"Alright," he said, putting his palm face down on the tree, "Clear your mind and focus your energy on its roots. Revitalize and make new, expand."

Suddenly the dead gray bark on the tree became brown and strong. Leaves blossomed off the branches and the roots tore themselves out of the ground. As they watched it pulled itself upwards and the roots snaked out and started to twine around another tree. With a snapping noise the other tree was pulled in two and they had to shield themselves from the flying splinters. Then Merlin took his hand off the trunk.

Immediately the roots shot back and into the ground. The leaves shriveled and the bark fell off until it was only a shell of the tree they had seen. Wiping his hands on his cloak he turned back to the apprentices.

"You can see how useful this would be in combat," he said, "Of course you won't be doing that on your first try though. We'll just start with you making the roots come above ground. Now get to it."

Each hurried to a tree. Horvath noticed how Veronica picked one that was furthest away from where Balthazar and he were. When she got to her spot she didn't place her palm on the tree like the others though. She instead looked at it up and down, cocking her head. Balthazar noticed this too before rolling his eyes.

Closing his eyes Horvath tried to concentrate and do the spell like Merlin had told him to. After a minute he thought he felt something happening and started to smile. Only seconds later he felt something sharp knock him in the face and send him flying into the mud. For a minute he had no idea what had happened until he saw the offending root slither back into the tree.

"Ah yes," Merlin said sagely from where he stood leaning nearly removed from the clearing, "About these trees. The result when done incorrectly is quite like that of a plasma bolt since both are of somewhat living organic material; it has a tendency to rebound on the caster. Didn't I mention that?"

Swearing quietly he got back up to his feet. Merlin had a tendency to do that; tell them information that would've been useful to know a few minutes ago. He had said once that he enjoyed watching people figure things out for themselves and that that was part of what being a master was all about. However, he always thought that he himself detected a hint of smugness in his tone.

He swore again as he headed back to his tree. He hated plasma bolts as well. They were most certainly **not **his weapon of choice in battle conditions. Balthazar had taken to them, but apparently energy based magic was simply not Horvath's strong point. In his opinion, though he doubted anyone would ever ask him, they were about the most useless things that magic could offer.

The only consolation he received was that he didn't manage to get smacked by a root again. However, nothing else happened either. The ground moved slightly, but was otherwise still. He simply continued to stand with his fist on a tree and his eyes squeezed shut. Just as he wondered if he should see if Balthazar had progressed he felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

He turned around in time to see Veronica shake her head.

"Excuse me?" asked Horvath.

Veronica pulled some of her wet hair away from her forehead and shook her head once more. She closed her eyes lightly and fanned her fingers out against the bark of the tree. Then she withdrew her hand and nodded at the tree as though encouraging for him to try. Horvath narrowed his eyes and said;

"Keep to your own work, **new girl**."

Somewhat offended Veronica turned around and strode back to her tree. Frowning after her Horvath had wondered what it was she had been trying to say. Her mime acts were hard to decipher on a regular basis when she just wanted them to get a certain book off of a shelf she couldn't reach or to pass salt at the table.

It was frustrating since her wants could be met so much quicker and easier if she would simply say them. More than once Balthazar and Horvath had had to bite back a frustrated exclamation and simply ask her to speak and tell him what she wanted. That was how it normally was. Giving instructions was an altogether more confusing subject and somewhat disquieting.

Then again, it wasn't like they trained together. Horvath had assumed that since she was starting a good deal later than them and was a few years younger she was getting different lessons. This was the closest thing to a group lesson that the three of them had had together, and with the exception of her motions to him, she was still maintaining her distance.

From behind him he heard and odd cracking noise. Curious he turned around to look and blinked a few times. Feeling rather stupid he tapped Balthazar on the shoulder.

"What- oh."

The roots of Veronica's tree had not only come out of the ground but twisted themselves into an elevated seat. She was sitting down on her perch, her eyes lightly closed and her fingers fanned out on the bark. When the roots crisscrossed to form some sort of canopy she opened her eyes and smiled smugly.

"I believe the lesson has been learned," Merlin said.

"But uh, Maxim and I haven't-" started Balthazar.

"You misunderstand me. That was the **spell**. That wasn't the **lesson**," said Merlin, "Today's lesson is in humility. From what I understand Veronica here has been studying plant manipulation for a very long time. What she lacks in her knowledge of weather manipulation and basic attacks she makes up for in this. It's just something to keep in mind. After all-"

He glanced briefly up at the girl.

"-I believe that it's time for you three to start training together."


	6. Chapter 6

Balthazar was going mad. It had started when Horvath had been given his two weeks off for a home visit. Due to their punishment for the fight with the Orkney princes five months ago he had missed his last leave to go home. Normally it happened every eight months, but since Merlin wasn't cruel he had made an exception and Horvath had gone early. He was always somewhat flexible with family visits.

Home visits were always stressful for the apprentice left behind. With fewer apprentices Merlin had more time and energy to focus on the remaining one. Since Veronica had been added to their number Balthazar had entertained the idea that things wouldn't be as bad. Instead; things were worse.

For one thing, Veronica had just started training with them. This meant that she was involved in a good deal more group spells, something that was quite hard to do when your partner wasn't talking to you. When Horvath was there they could stumble along or at least cast stronger shields if the spell went wrong due to lack of communication.

Now it was just the two of them. Horvath had always commended Balthazar on his patience, but it had been worn paper thin over the past five days. Merlin wasn't there all the time to do damage control. Spells had exploded, potions had splattered, and he wished for nothing more than to forget what the enchanted objects had done. Afterwards Veronica always stamped her foot or thrown her hands up irritably as though it was his fault that it had gone wrong.

He'd always bite his tongue and get on with things. It wasn't in his nature to dwell on things gone wrong, he'd just try to learn from it and push for another try. Around the fifteenth time things went wrong though, a vein would start throbbing at his temple. Undoubtedly the comments he'd been bottling up would've burst forward if not for one thing; study hall.

Balthazar was a fan of silence while Horvath had been one to fill the air with mindless chatter of all varieties. It was one of Horvath's few irritating qualities in his book that study halls were never quite as studious as they should be. With Veronica there was complete and utter silence, and he was learning to appreciate it.

She seemed to respect not making noise, and it wasn't just because she didn't talk. Her movements were quiet, and when she couldn't read a word she would simply point to it and he would tell her. Her learning curve was also rather high. Every now and then she would point to a line in his work and he would know that he had made a mistake. He would thank her; she would nod, and then go back to her seat. These times were when he was able to readjust his grip on his sanity.

On the one afternoon they got off of the first week Merlin had ordered that he keep close to her. Apparently she'd told him that she'd wanted to go out that day. The request had surprised him for two reasons. Firstly was that when Horvath had been there she had kept herself indoors, and had apparently just now gotten curious about what was outside of their Keep. Secondly was the fact that Merlin had stressed the **told **part of his sentence proved that Veronica did talk, just not to the other apprentices.

Put-off a little by the order to become a baby-sitter Balthazar took her to the river a few minutes' walk away where free afternoons were usually spent. He warned her about being too near the deep end and that the current was faster than it looked. Merlin had cautioned him that she couldn't swim, and he dutifully told her not to try it.

Fortunately she nodded at his restrictions, although he could see that she was impatient. Knowing that he must sound horribly stuffy he let her go as soon as he could. Veronica immediately took to picking flowers along the bank, and he settled down into some nearby shade with a book, deciding that this was easier than it looked. He didn't look up until he heard a plaintive wail.

Veronica wasn't too far away, kneeling by the edge of the river. She looked frozen at something, her hand outstretched. Her precise reason for crying out wasn't apparent, she didn't seem hurt and no one else was around her. Frowning Balthazar got up and was only a few feet away when she threw herself into the river.

Completely panicked Balthazar ran after her, but already he couldn't see the small girl under the current. Since he was a strong swimmer he threw off his coat and jumped in after her. Forcing himself to keep his eyes opened he moved for a few feet underwater until he found her, helplessly struggling with the current. Grabbing her around the waist he hoisted her with great difficulty towards the shore.

"Just kick the water," he said, "Least you can do for getting us into this is help."

Mournfully Veronica nodded and the two made their way slowly to the banks. Once they were on dry land Balthazar spit a few times.

"People empty their chamber pots into that river," he said in disgust, "What the hell were you thinking?"

Veronica made a circle with her thumb and forefinger which she slipped on a finger of the opposite hand. She took it off and then put it on a few times. Finally Balthazar understood and let out a sigh of frustration.

"You lost your ring?"

She nodded and bit her lip; the picture of misery.

"You won't get into too much trouble," he said, trying to keep his tone reassuring but angry for having to dive into the river for such a stupid reason, "I went through three of them my first year and Maxim lost count."

Veronica shook her head furiously.

"It's nothing to get upset about," he snapped, "It was just an ugly cheap thing and you'd definitely have to get rid of it when you got older. I don't know why Master even gave you one like that in the first place."

Abruptly Veronica stopped shaking her head. Her lower lip started to tremble and her eyes grew wide.

"What-?" he started.

Before he could finish she'd picked up her wet skirts and run off in the direction of the castle. Balthazar shook his head in incomprehension; he would never understand that girl. He took some time to dry himself off before he went back to the castle. The last time he had come back with a messy material dripping off him he'd gotten dirty looks from the servants for weeks.

He took his time getting back, since their free afternoon wasn't at all near completion. Upon arriving he was almost immediately pulled off to the side of the courtyard by an enraged Merlin.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" he thundered.

"I didn't do anything!" Balthazar yelled back before he knew what he was saying.

Merlin's craggy white eyebrows contorted, truly a terrifying sight to behold.

"Veronica came back in obvious distress hours ago and has not come out of her room since. Now **what **happened?"

Knowing he was cornered he admitted;

"I told her to stay out of the river. Just like you told me to. She was the one who jumped in!"

"And why would she do that?"

"She uh, she lost her ring in it," Balthazar answered.

Merlin released him and closed his eyes.

"And?"

"I had to drag her out," Balthazar said, realizing that he wasn't in trouble and relaxing visibly, "I told her it was no big deal-"

He felt the panic rise up again when Merlin winced.

"-but she wouldn't listen to me and just ran back."

Eyes opening Merlin regarded him grimly.

"That's all that happened?"

"Yes," replied Balthazar.

Merlin leaned in and narrowed his eyes. Balthazar instinctively leaned back.

"You're a horrid liar. Out with it boy."

"I uh, got frustrated when she wouldn't listen and kinda called the ring cheap and ugly."

Throwing his hands in the air Merlin shook his head.

"Well it was!" Balthazar said defensively.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he asked tersely, "Bad enough that she lost it, then some stupid boy has to come up and tell her it was worthless. There are many things you don't know about Veronica, many things **I** don't even know about her but you will apologize for what you've done!"

"What have I done exactly?" asked Balthazar indignantly.

Rubbing his temples Merlin sighed.

"I'm going to tell you this," he said, "Just so you appreciate the offense you've given and can make due recourse. You may not repeat this to anyone, not Maxim, no one. Understand?"

Perturbed by his Master's sudden mood switch Balthazar nodded.

"I never gave Veronica that ring," he said, "She received it from her first Master; her mother."


	7. Chapter 7

Yvainne Hunt was the most powerful sorceress in the north of England. Her power was considered even greater by the fact that she had never seen an Incantus, the family being much too low on the social ladder to learn to read. Any one of those ancient tomes that had made it into her ancestors hands had been picture read before being sold. Her own education had been taught orally with a few gaps in it by her mother, who had been trained by her mother before her in the same fashion.

In fact, for as long as anyone could remember there had always been a Hunt woman near Scarborough casting magic. The very name in the region commanded tremendous respect, which was why the villagers had let her refusal to change to her husband's name go uncommented. None of the Forrest women had changed it for any man, nor ever would.

Her husband, Matthew Ford, was content to let matters rest as well and to allow any daughter they would produce to keep it. Some had said he was a fool for marrying her, since the Forrest family had always been rather poor despite their skills. However, anyone who knew them knew that the match had been for love, something that was becoming more and more common in their area.

Her first three children had been boys, Luke, Joseph, and Michael, born no more than two years apart. While she had taken time to teach them a few defensive spells she had never formally trained them. They possessed little talent in that field and she simply taught them so that they could protect themselves. It was the girl in her family that she had been taught since childhood who would be her apprentice, not any sons that she might bear.

From the day that Veronica was born she had started making plans to train her as her successor. She took her everywhere with her and soon sickbeds, childbeds, and even deathbeds were no stranger to the young girl. When she turned six her mother went to the blacksmith, a great friend of hers, and had a ring of iron cast for her. Her mother knew it was rather early, but she was showing a great deal of potential and Yvainne dreamed of the day when her child would surpass her.

Her three older brothers worked the farm with their father. They never had much time for magic, but they knew to stay out of the way of their sister and mother while they were trying new spells. When she was finished she would come out and help them with their work, unless her mother called her away for something else. Instead of building resentment among the siblings it was simply viewed by them as normal; their way of life.

The years went by as Veronica became more and more involved in both the craft and her community. As was her custom Yvainne's work was free of charge although the neighborhood in general knew that it was good business to keep her family prosperous. The family never had trouble with the local authorities and want was unknown to them.

Veronica's first taste of the cruelties of life came in a shocking blow. She was only nine years old when she went on an expedition to town. A spell trader was there and Veronica had been sent to get a few picture scrolls for her mother under the watch of her eldest brother Luke. It was a usual chore for her, and one she enjoyed because her mother had trained her well in her ability to pick out the real spells from the fake ones and haggling.

The blacksmith, Paul, and a few other villagers had accompanied them home as well. The area was known for being safe, so it wasn't for protection that they came. There was a problem with the harvest and they wished to speak with Yvainne about fixing it. It was Paul who had first smelt smoke in the air.

The band had hurried to her home only to find it aflame. The mutilated bodies of her other brothers and father were scattered about. In the midst of this Yvainne stood furiously casting spells at a man in a black cloak. Leisurely he repelled them and looked almost bored. When the villagers had arrived he turned to look at them briefly, and his eyes rested on Veronica and Luke.

Yvainne shouted at them seconds before the sorcerer flung a bolt of lightning at her and she fell down. The scent of burning flesh filled the air and it was obvious to all, even the small girl, that she was dead. Luke swiftly scooped up Veronica and ran with her into the woods. He had made it rather far before a burst of light hurtled towards them.

Simultaneously they sent up shields. The light shattered them both and another burst of light followed the first. Both panicked upon seeing their magic so useless. Neither Veronica nor Luke were able to put up another defensive spell; their minds simply were not clear enough. Luke just barely managed retained the presence of mind to maneuver himself that only he was killed in the blast.

Veronica had screamed at this which allowed Paul to find her with relative ease. He and several other villagers had fled into the woods as well, only he looking for his friend's children. Upon finding her he attempted to take her away from Luke's body, but she refused to move or stop screaming. Running out of time Paul knocked the child out and carried her back to his forge.

He hid her in the crawl space under his house for over a year. For her safety he, his wife, and their daughter Mary quietly fed and cared for her. She didn't venture out, not even at night. Paul and his wife didn't encourage her to do so. They knew that it was not only dangerous, but she would not like what she saw.

The bodies of her family had been strung up in the village square and left for the birds to devour. Soon other corpses joined them, those of those who opposed the sorcerer who called himself Taurus. With most resistance crushed he took control of the area and reduced its population to slaves. He planned on making it his base of power to launch a full scale conquest of England, and then the world. Taurus refused to allow anyone in or out in order to avoid attracting attention of sorcerers powerful enough to defeat him.

He also refused to give up his search for Yvainne's missing daughter. Over time the search became more and more exhaustive. While Taurus told no one his reason for doing so, it was simple; fear. He had sensed a good deal of power in the child, something that he knew he couldn't afford to ignore.

All this time Veronica had remained silent, speaking not a word since her screams had stopped in the forest for her brother. Tears came frequently, but no words. Not even Mary, who had once been friends with her, could offer any comfort at these times Every now and then she would study the pictures of the eight spell scrolls she had been getting for her mother, but mostly she would just sit. Paul and his wife worried about her, but they couldn't spend too long down there with her without rousing suspicion.

The search for her became more and more intense until Paul and his wife realized that no matter what they did Taurus would soon find her. One night Paul entrusted the entire care of the silent girl to his wife and Mary. He then fled the town with great risk to his person. He crossed rivers and forests until he reached Camelot and begged for an audience with Merlin.

Seeing his distress the servants had hastened to fetch the old sorcerer, although the hour had been very late indeed. Paul then told him the whole story and what had happened. Recognizing the urgency of the situation Merlin had given only minute instructions to his apprentices before leaving.

The community had fallen deeper under the shroud of Taurus in the time Paul had been away. However, his family had managed to keep Veronica hidden. After a long and arduous battle Merlin defeated the sorcerer and trapped him deep underground. Veronica was then let out of her hiding place, nothing left of the life she had had before but the clothes on her back, a ring, and a few scrolls.

Realizing the girl's potential Merlin had made her his apprentice. He vowed to Paul and his wife to raise her to make her mother and bloodline proud. The next part of the task, convincing Veronica to go, was more difficult. Eventually he triumphed there also and Veronica left her shattered world behind in the hopes of finding a better one.


	8. Chapter 8

Merlin finished his tale and observed his apprentice. Balthazar looked downwards and tugged on his ring. It was only then that the sorcerer started to contemplate the wisdom in what he had just done. Perhaps he had been a little rash in telling him how he had found the girl. The story had obviously left the boy deeply disturbed. However, he needed to understand the effect that losing the ring had had on her.

"So…" Balthazar said slowly, "What do I do?"

"What doyou do?" Merlin repeated back at him, "To begin with you'll apologize."

"And?" he asked.

"And? Oh, you're expecting some form of a punishment," Merlin said, raising his eyebrow, "Then I suppose this shall serve as a lesson."

Balthazar looked up, questioning. Sighing Merlin added;

"Your offense was given in ignorance, and as much as I would like to punish you for it I can't seem to find just cause to do so. It shall be your burden to decide what it is you should do as a penance."

The boy looked at his own ring for a minute, tugging it experimentally. Very slowly a thoughtful expression came to his face.

"I think I know what I should do," he said.

"And you have discovered it that fast?" asked Merlin.

"Um, yeah," he said, "I've got an idea, or at least the beginning of one. But it'll work. I think."

"It'd better," Merlin said, turning to go, "Or I really will punish you this time."

"Don't worry," Balthazar replied, turning to look at the rapidly setting sun, "I know what I'm doing."

Veronica walked quietly into the library. It was very nearly midnight now and even the servants had gone to bed, which accounted for her venturing out of her room at all. She hadn't wanted to be in contact with anyone for hours now, something that Merlin had respected when he'd seen her locked door. She was grateful to him for not simply magicking it open.

The candle in her hand made her nervous. Hot wax burns were something that she was somewhat afraid of; having never before experienced them. Back at her home the house was small enough that something could be found at night after a few minutes of fumbling. That had only been before she was six though. After that she had gotten her ring and could use her powers to conjure up some light.

She bit her lip. Her ring. Yes, that was gone now at the bottom of a river. This was, of course, why she was down there. Her old dress that she had been wearing at the time of her family's demise had long since fallen apart on the trip to Camelot. With her ring gone, the only thing that was left were the scrolls she had been bringing her mother.

Sinking down near a shelf she searched for a minute before finding the trick panel in the wall. Merlin had told her about it, respecting her need to keep the scrolls separate from everything else. Gingerly she took them out and placed them near enough to the candle to be illuminated by it but not close enough to be burned.

Her eyes flickered over the pictures. By now they were all very familiar to her, her only entertainment in that dark cellar. She didn't yet posses the power to cast any of them, but she would know how to do them when the time came. Still, tonight she wasn't studying them. Tonight she simply wanted to be near them for the little comfort they possessed.

Footsteps approached and Veronica stuffed the scrolls back into her hiding place. The thought of sharing them with anyone had truly never crossed her mind. Not even Merlin had seen them; he had heard about them from Paul and simply offered a place to conceal them. She had liked him for that tact, something she knew his apprentices had yet to learn.

A throat cleared behind her and Veronica glanced briefly in her direction. In the gloomy dark she could just make out the form of Balthazar. She narrowed her eyes before sniffing and turning away.

"Yeah…guess I deserved that."

Veronica snorted at the understatement.

"Look," he said uncomfortably, "Master told me about…about the ring."

She remained turned from him and wrapped her arms around herself.

"I'm sorry," he continued, "I didn't understand."

He transferred his weight from his left foot to his right uneasily.

"My parents died when I was six," he said, "Sweating sickness. I got it too, but I recovered. No one that age recovers. That's how they knew I was 'special', that's how Merlin found me a few years later."

The word 'special' was said bitterly.

"I know it's not the same," he said, "But…I…I know what it feels like when your world falls out from under you. If I didn't have my brother left I know I would've gone crazy and you…you didn't…never mind. That's why I wanted to make this right."

A little curious where he was going with this Veronica picked up her candle to get a better look. She took a few cautious steps forward and stopped. There was an odd smell in the air, one that made her stomach churn and her nose wrinkle involuntarily. Balthazar noticed this and laughed darkly.

"Yeah, this isn't going to wash off for a very long time, I can tell you that much."

Hope rising in her she took another few steps forward. It was then that she noticed that he was soaked and dripping. One of his hands was clenched tightly around something, but he was bringing it up.

"It wasn't that difficult really. All I needed to be able to do was cast a locating spell and dive for it. The diving was actually the harder of the two; I think the current gets stronger later in the evening or something."

Mutely Veronica held out her hand. Balthazar extended his fist over it and dropped her ring into it. It was still wet, but seemed unharmed from its time in the lake. Biting her lip again she attempted to hold back the tears that she wanted to cry. Noticing her eyes becoming watery Balthazar said;

"Smells that bad, huh?"

Veronica brushed the tears away as he shrugged comically. The gesture, combined with his drenched appearance, made her laugh.

"That's the Veronica I know," he said, "You should get to bed now. Master's gonna have a fit if we fall asleep in the middle of a lesson."

He nodded to her and started out of the room. Slipping the ring back on her finger she swallowed a few times. Finally she forced the now strange words out of her throat;

"Thank you."

Balthazar stopped in mid-step. He turned around slowly, looking at her in surprise.

"Uh, you're welcome?" he said, his voice conveying that he had no idea what had just happened.

Laughing again Veronica moved past him and into the hall.


	9. Chapter 9

"You know we're going to get in trouble for this," Veronica said.

Horvath looked over his shoulder at her. She was a few steps behind them, her stride not as long as theirs and her skirt hindering her.

"If you don't want to come, you don't have to," Horvath said irritably.

"Oh?" asked Veronica, placing her hands on her hips, "And have Master come back and ask me why I let the two of you go by yourselves to get into all sorts of mischief? I'm in trouble either way, so I might as well try to control the damage."

Shaking his head Horvath nudged Balthazar.

"She turns fifteen and thinks she's sooooo mature."

"Much more than you were at this age."

"You know, I kinda miss when she couldn't talk," Balthazar said.

"Ah, for it to be four years ago."

"Couldn't and didn't are different," corrected Veronica impatiently, "And we're not supposed to be taking off like this."

"Again, so don't come," said Horvath, "And stop being such a goody-two shoes. You've broken rules before."

"Bent them," Veronica corrected again.

"Well, we're just bending them this time too," said Balthazar, "I want to see my brother in this tournament. I haven't seen him joust in two years and when he's having one not a mile away I can't get the afternoon off. What do you call that Maxim?"

"Unfair," Horvath said firmly.

"Exactly. So this counts as bending them."

Veronica rolled her eyes but realized that it was impossible to get them to see things her way. It wasn't as though they were paying much attention then anyway as they had just reached the tournament grounds. Balthazar smiled just before they hit the crowds and said to Veronica and Horvath;

"I'm gonna go find Letholdus."

Without another word he strode off into the crush of people. Veronica looked at her surroundings nervously. She hadn't been so far from Merlin's keep since she had first arrived and she certainly had never been around this many people. Chewing on her lip she looked around her nervously.

Horvath had a long stride to begin with and was difficult to keep up with. He turned around, probably to make an irritated remark about how long she took, and his eyes softened somewhat.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said.

Veronica looked at him skeptically.

"Honestly it isn't," he said, "Just stay close, 'kay?"

She nodded as they moved into the crowds. Veronica soon gave up on trying to be polite, the crowds had obviously not read from the same book of etiquette she had. Finally they made their way into the stalls near the tiltyard. Horvath had simply to wave his ring and glare at a few people before they got up and made way for the two of them.

"Do you think that was right?" asked Veronica, sitting down.

Shrugging at her he pointed across to the seats of honor. A young woman with reddish-brown hair sat there in a green dress. She was listening intently to another woman beside her, her hands folded demurely in her hands. There was something in her stance that reminded Veronica of Queen Morgause, whom she still wrote to frequently. She had that same dignity, but came across as more complacent.

"Letholdus' fiancé," he explained to Veronica, "Lady Catherine."

"She's pretty," Veronica said simply.

"Pretty's an understatement," laughed Horvath, "The girl's the most beautiful in three counties. But she's coming with a **pretty** fantastic dowry."

Horvath laughed at his own joke.

"Not too bright from what I hear, but Letholdus did very good."

Veronica arched her eyebrows at Horvath's casual dismissal of the girl's intelligence. Still, she knew she shouldn't be too surprised. Her eyes flickered back to the girl and she saw a golden youth sitting a few seats behind her. He was looking at her oddly, although Catherine was doing her best to pretend like she hadn't noticed.

"Who's that?" asked Veronica, pointing.

Horvath looked in the direction of her finger and froze. Slowly he grimaced.

"That's Mordred, a Duke from Lothain," he said in disgust, "He's the Duchess Morgana's son. Have you met her?"

Briefly she remembered the haughty woman in the litter with the Queen.

"Yes," she said shortly.

"Nasty piece of work, isn't she?" asked Horvath, "I met her once at a court function. Well, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. He just…he's just a jerk. He's become more unpleasant since Balthazar beat him to a pulp four years ago."

"That was him?"

"Yep," Horvath said, "Gets worse. Apparently his mother was undergoing negotiations to get him married to Lady Catherine. She's King Arthur's third cousin I think, and then there's the money. But Catherine asked her father to choose Letholdus over Mordred, even though Mordred's closer to her age. She was in love with him and her father can't refuse her anything. So just when it looked settled he changed his mind and now they're due to be wed fairly soon. Don't like the way he's looking at her though."

Veronica didn't like it either. However, a trumpet blast heralded the beginning of the games and distracted them from their thoughts. A squire scurried to the front and began speaking, although Veronica couldn't hear exactly what was being said.

"What's going on?" she asked.  
"He's just announcing a few titles and stuff," Horvath replied, "Nothing important. I'll tell you when Letholdus comes out, but he's not until much later. The knights for this round should be riding out soon."

Just as he finished speaking she saw them appear at separate ends of the tiltyard. He leaned forward and the flags dropped. Veronica watched as the two knights rode towards each other at full speed. Their lances came down and it was only a minute before they collided. She winced at the sound of the splintering wood as both knights went down.

"Bad form," tsked Horvath, "They've got to settle it by swords now."

True enough both knights were getting to their feet and drawing their swords. Gripping the edge of her seat she leaned forwards as the two knights fell to swinging at each other, back and forth. Finally one stumbled backwards and fell. His opponent was quick to take the advantage and lowered the sword to the other's throat. There was a pause and then the blast of a trumpet.

"Now the winner's going on to the next round," Horvath explained, "Get it?"

"It's simple enough."

Indeed Horvath had to explain to her less and less as the day went on. She was actually starting to worry about Merlin getting back and noticing that all his apprentices had flown the coup. Veronica voiced her concerns to Horvath who, once checking the sun, reluctantly agreed.

"Let's go get Balthazar," he said.

As he got up there was another blast. He abruptly sat down again.

"I'll go right after this, but it's Letholdus now," he said, "I mean, his technique's flawless."

Uneasily Veronica remained where she was. Just one more match really couldn't hurt. Her eyes drifted over to the tiltyard again just in time to see Balthazar standing next to a man a good three heads taller than him. He looked quite like him and was making a comment. Balthazar laughed and handed him a helmet, which he duly put on.

With one great leap he sat atop his horse and picked up his lance. She looked down to the other side of the tiltyard where there was a knight in red armor. This wasn't too uncommon, since many knights preferred to have different colors of armor. Veronica redirected her attention to Letholdus as the flags once again dropped.

The two knights charged at each other and Letholdus' lance appeared to strike home. However, the other knight wasn't knocked off of his horse. He wasn't even jarred. She frowned and saw Horvath do the same. The two of them passed each other again, and the same thing happened.

There was an odd hush over the crowd now. Once more they passed each other, only this time the red knight reached out and grabbed Letholdus by the neck as they passed. They tumbled over the divider, horses and lances in a jumbled mess. From where she was Veronica could see Lady Catherine scream and faint into the arms of the woman she'd been talking to earlier. The crowd got to its feet, as did Horvath and Veronica.

Balthazar rushed onto the tiltyard as his brother crawled from the wreckage and got unsteadily to his feet. The red knight, appearing unharmed, grabbed him from behind. There was an odd metallic noise and three long scratches appeared on his chest armor, ripping it to shreds. In defense Letholdus lashed out with his arm and the red knight's helmet was knocked off.

Where a head should've been there was wrinkled, wizened skin. Two red eyes stared out and a long, scraggly beard flowed out. It cackled, revealing two rows of sharp fangs. Several spectators crossed themselves and murmured prayers. It cackled again and threw Letholdus to the ground, bringing its arm back for the killing blow.


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: **__I've gotten a few questions about Morgause and Morgana, so here we go. Technically there were somewhere between three and four daughters that Ygraine had. Depending on which version you read they're basically Morgause, Morgana, Morgan Le Faye, and Elaine. All of their names, with the exception of Elaine, have been used for the woman whom Arthur had Mordred with. _

_There are some versions about Queen Morgause of Lothain and Orkney who had Agravaine, Gawain, Gaheris, and Gareth with King Lot. Sometimes she also had Mordred, and sometimes it was her sister. Again their parts interchangeable so things get confusing. Blame it on the__** genius**__ who gave them all 'M' names. _

Seconds after its hand was brought back it was knocked away from Letholdus by a plasma bolt. It quickly got up and glared at where Balthazar stood, now trying to help his brother up off the ground. Hissing it clawed at him, leaving a long and bloody scratch across Balthazar's temple.

"We've got to get down there," Horvath said hoarsely.

Veronica nodded fiercely and they started shoving their way through the people. Many of them had started to flee, so it was like swimming against the current. Being smaller than Horvath she arrived at the tiltyard before him, just in time to see the creature launch itself once more at Balthazar, this time lashing at his stomach.

She pushed the air forwards at and the creature. It was knocked into the barrier by it, breaking it. Getting up it snarled at her, suddenly realizing it had two targets to deal with. With another snarl it ran towards her. Undaunted she threw up a shield spell which it ran into. It was thrown back to its feet just in time to get hit by a lightning bolt by Horvath.

It got up again and looked around with its beady eyes. At one end there was Balthazar. He had given up trying to help his brother, who Veronica now saw was unconscious. Instead he was standing in front of him protectively, his hands crackling with energy. To its left stood Horvath, his spell not apparent but obviously getting one ready. Veronica herself was already getting an idea together.

"Water containment!" she yelled.

The two other boys nodded briefly at her and concentrated. Merlin had taught them this spell a few weeks ago. Truly great sorcerers could do this unaided, but they were still only in the infancy of their training and it was a very difficult spell. Only with their powers combined could they achieve it, and not for very long.

However, they wouldn't have to keep him in place for very long this time. Water flowed from their rings, engulfing the creature and slowing its motion.

"Plasma bolts now," Balthazar said, "Everyone!"

Clearing her mind Veronica moved her hands in a motion, one in clockwise and the other in anti-clockwise. Horvath was doing the same. Plasma bolts weren't their specialty, so it took them slightly longer than Balthazar to get one together. Before the water containment spell vanished though, they had them ready.

The creature was hit with rapid fire from every direction. It howled in pain but, bombarded by all sides, it burst into dust. The three apprentices looked at each other, panting but somewhat proud. For Balthazar the moment ended abruptly as he rushed over to his brother and pulled his helmet off.

Sharing a look Veronica and Horvath hurried over as well. Balthazar sighed in relief and shouted out to what remained of the crowd;

"He's fine!"

The woman whom had been trying to revive Lady Catherine looked relieved.

"And you?" asked Veronica anxiously.

Balthazar felt up to where his forehead was still bleeding and shrugged.

"Fine."

"Come on Veronica," laughed Horvath, "It's just a scratch. We've had worse, haven't we?"

He playfully punched Balthazar in the shoulder. Taking his hand away from the wound Balthazar looked up at Veronica and Horvath gratefully.

"Thanks," he said, "I'd never have been able to do this without you guys."

"Don't mention it," grinned Horvath, "But what the hell was that thing?'

"A Mandragora," said a cool voice behind them, "You'd have known that if you'd done the reading three weeks ago under the section of familiars."

As one the three apprentices winced. Merlin strode in the midst of them, eyeing them oddly.

"While it would've been certain that your brother would've died if you three had not been here," said Merlin, "and while I am rather impressed by your team work, I don't recall giving you permission to come here. Your punishment shall be light this time, but I expect better of you in the future."

Guiltily they nodded their heads. Slowly Merlin knelt by Letholdus and waved his hands over his forehead. There was a small light and Merlin withdrew from the now-healed wound.

"Mandragoras rarely work without orders from their master, even ones as advanced as that one," he said, "Protection spells are generally only temporary fixes, but I believe that it should be enough to protect your brother from further attack, at least from familiars. I'll have some of the sorcerers in Camelot keep an eye on him from now on. He'll be fine."

Merlin looked at Letholdus speculatively.

"However," he said quietly, "An attack by a Mandragora raises an interesting question; who set it on him, and for what purpose?"

Balthazar was already worried enough, so he didn't mention the real question. In truth it wasn't really for what purpose, that much was obvious. The who was very limited by the number of sorcerers in the area, and none, no matter how far they had taken their pranks, would do this out of mischief so their motive would be purely for harm. In the end, the question was thus; who had they sought to harm with this attack, a famous jouster, or Merlin's apprentice?

"It was stupid."

Mordred rolled his eyes lazily at the projected image in the mirror.

"No one knows it was me."

"If they think about it long enough and do some digging than they will," his mother said irritably, "And I didn't teach you how to summon a Mandragora just to have you waste the spell on something like this. Were there not more subtle ways for you to get your revenge? Were there not better places? All** three **of Merlin's apprentices were there. Only way it could've been worse was if the man himself had been on site at the time."

"I'd only counted on Balthazar," he said, throwing his arms up, "I didn't count on the other brats."

"Brats is an interesting term for the filth he carries," Morgana snorted, "And while true there's another thing you should remember; they are still being trained by a great sorcerer. They are powerful apart, extraordinary together."

"Like I said, I only counted on the brother," explained Mordred again, starting to wonder if she was listening to him at all, "And it could've taken him. We could've gotten rid of the Blakesons in one fell swoop!"

"Could've," Morgana repeated, "Listen, your plan does you credit but you should've consulted me first. I didn't know you cared for the girl this much."

"I didn't and I don't," snorted Mordred, "There are many others prettier than her. I just don't like being shoved aside in favor of some moron with a drop of noble blood. We both know that I should be prince mother."

"Yes," she said, her voice soothing now, "But just a few more years Mordred, just a few more. There're a few matters I want to get in hand first, a slight testing of the waters. Perhaps we can do a few marriage alliances. After that we'll both assume our rightful places."


	11. Chapter 11

"Pardon me."

Veronica glanced up briefly from her horse to see Mordred in the doorway. He looked bored and irritated, as though he couldn't be bothered to wait for much longer. She was surprised to see him there, but didn't let it show. The Orkney princes showed up every now and then, their friendship with the male apprentices repaired. They were somewhat careful around Veronica, perhaps remembering her scornful laughter.

Mordred was different though. Every now and then he would appear with his cousins but mostly he stayed away. She was always grateful when he did. His appearance always put a damper on the mood, being unlike his boisterous cousins in every way. They didn't even look alike; the boys were red-headed or brunette with swarthy complexions. Mordred however was golden blonde and pale, not even looking like his mother.

Yes, his mother. There had been no love lost on that account, being around his mother made her nauseous. Veronica didn't have strong feelings for Mordred either way; she just had a vague air of dislike, probably left over from her run-in with his mother. She turned back and continued to brush her horse before saying;

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if Merlin was in," he said, sounding more irritated by her casual dismissal, "My mother wishes to know why he hasn't responded to her invitation."

Quietly Veronica noted the lack of an honorific before Merlin's name. The fact that he had come directly to her instead of going into the Keep, as the proper thing to do would've been, was wrong too. Instead he hadn't even presented himself, just gone straight to the nearest person and then acted like they were wasting his time.

Ignoring this blatant disrespect she wondered what exactly the invitation had contained. The last post had come over two months ago. He had received a letter, certainly, but he had said nothing about it to them. There had been a few explosions from his side of the tower, a sure sign that he was angry. However, he wouldn't answer any questions about it.

"He is out," she answered simply.

"Where?"

Truthfully he had gone into the city to advise King Arthur with Horvath. He always did so when he was summoned, and the King summoned his old tutor quite often. He would bring one of his apprentices, switching them out so that they would not be strangers to the court. Although there was no real need for her to conceal this, it was a very common and well-known occurrence, she felt taken aback by Mordred's peremptory tone. So instead of telling him she said;

"On business.

"Anything more specific?" he snarled.

Veronica raised an eyebrow and put down the brush.

"Not for you, no," she said.

"Where do you get off talking like that to me?" he snapped, "Do you know who I am?"

Oh yes, he was very much like his mother. Very calmly but inwardly seething she said;

"He should be back in a day or two, nothing too long. I advise you to come back and discuss such matters with him then Lord Mordred."

With a slight curtsey she turned away, feeling rather smug about the whole incident. She began heading towards the small closet which had been built to store cloaks in case Merlin needed to go away on a long journey at the last minute. She had put her good shoes there before coming in and intended to fetch them. Right before she could retrieve them though, she felt pressure on her back.

Seconds later she was shoved forward and into the closet. The door closed behind her, and she heard it lock.

"That should teach you some respect, peasant girl," Mordred said coolly outside the door.

For a minute all she could feel was anger and the need to find a spell in her mind to blast down the door and teach **him **a lesson. Then another, unfamiliar feeling crept in on her in the dark, confined area of the closet. A memory rose, unbidden to her mind of a time six years before…

_It was dark down there. During the day she could use the sunlight that filtered through the floorboards to look at the pictures on her scrolls, but not during the night. Not so much as a candle was allowed, lest the light be seen through the floorboards. All in all the area was small and the roof so low that when she stood her head skimmed it. The air was heavy, it always was, and it was quiet. _

_Paul meant well when he put her down there, he really did and she knew it. It was the only way for her to be kept safe. However, in the quiet, in the dark, she felt only as though death itself was waiting for her. She tried to keep calm during these times, but she always felt as though she were about to lose her sanity down there. Holding onto it was a nightly struggle, sleep was nigh impossible._

The feeling intensified and started pushing her down, enveloping her, choking her. Panic came as she attempted to fight off this feeling and clear her mind. She needed to do a spell, any spell to break free, but she couldn't. The more she tried the more the panic rose and the more she felt like she was being pushed down and smothered.

Balthazar was in the courtyard when he first heard the screams. The servants who were out there for one thing or another dropped what they were doing to cross themselves. Balthazar himself was tempted to follow suite, but he could hear that they were much closer than one would think. Not really thinking about it he ran in the direction of the stables.

The first thing he saw upon reaching his destination was Mordred. It was unusual to see him there but stranger still was the expression on his face. It was one of pleased surprise, as though something had turned out much better than he thought. From some distance away, still running, he followed his gaze to the cloak closet and formed a crude idea of what had happened.

Shoving Mordred aside he unlocked the closet and flung the doors open. Veronica practically fell out into his arms, breathing as though this were her first air. From having to let in visitors to the Keep who had been hunted by dragons and evil sorcerers he was able to recognize hysteria when he saw it. What surprised him was that she wasn't crying like they had all done.

Muttering odd comforts he waited until her breathing had become regular. After that he turned to Mordred, still looking mightily entertained.

"What the hell did you do?" growled Balthazar.

"Locked her in a closet. What does it look like?" he replied, smirking.

Balthazar gritted his teeth together and looked back at Veronica. It was then that he started to wonder how big her hiding place had been back at her old village. She had been in there nearly a year with very little human contact. It must have been maddening and horrifying for a nine year old, for anyone. Then for someone like Mordred to make her relive that, even unknowingly, and then just listen to her scream-

"You're going to regret that," Balthazar snarled.

Before he could fulfill his threat he felt Veronica start to twist his arms away from him. He watched as she stepped forward and looked at Mordred who was still smirking. Then she drew her hand back and slapped him; hard. Her ring cut his face, leaving a thin cut from his ear to his upper lip. It started to bleed as he looked at her in shock, then anger.

"How dare you-?"

Wind started to pick up and Veronica's stone glowed. When she spoke it was with command, with fury.

"_**Leave NOW**_."

Looking between her face and Balthazar's Mordred quickly made up his mind. They watched him go until he was out of sight. After that the wind died down, as did the glow in Veronica's ring. He saw her shoulders slump and she sat down weakly onto a wooden bench, breathing deeply.

Balthazar looked at her, trying to understand what had just happened. Before him was a woman who'd been uprooted and passed through fire and yet survived. No, she hadn't just survived; she'd become stronger. Even in the throes of panic she'd been master over her tears. Balthazar sat down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Neither of them talked, and in time she was sufficiently recovered to go back to the Keep.

When Merlin and Horvath returned the next day he quietly relayed the incident to him. Horvath had been all for killing Mordred where he stood, something that Balthazar had agreed with. Merlin though, as was his habit, counseled patience and to simply tell Morgana that her and her son were no longer welcome in their presence. However, Merlin began watching Mordred after that, worried about what lay ahead in the boy's future.


	12. Chapter 12

There was a squelching noise and Horvath winced. He was glad he hadn't used his best boots for this outing, or any boots that he cared about at all for that matter. However, the higher quality footwear might've kept the water out a bit more. These old, worn, thin-leathered ones weren't even pretending to do their job anymore. By this point they simply felt like a second layer of thick stockings around his feet.

This was supposed to be a thing of triumph for them. They had never been sent this far away on a mission before. Merlin had never trusted them with things of great importance. After the incident with the Mandragora though, he had apparently changed his mind and allowed them to take on things of more importance. That was months later they stood, sloshing their way through a swamp and looking for the creature that had been drowning the villagers.

"I hate Grindylows," Veronica said, struggling through the mud behind him.

"This one's playing with us," Horvath said, looking back at the other apprentices.

With his stronger, bulkier build Horvath was able to get through the bog quicker than the other two. Balthazar was next with his stringy physique and Veronica brought up the rear. Although she had gathered her skirts up to keep the hem from the mud it was still noticeably slowing her down.

"It's not interested in drowning us," he said, still waiting for the other two to catch up, "It probably knows we're sorcerers and we're coming for it. I think it just wants to have some fun."

For three hours they had been following the creature's light. Now and then it would disappear, only to show up again in a completely different direction. Normally most Grindylows would've killed their victims by now.

"Oh, it'll be fun when we find it," said Balthazar, taking a wet-sounding step, "Fun for us that is."

"You know what Merlin said about torturing it before we killed it."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Veronica laughed, but it was a bitter, dry sound.

"Doesn't matter. If I spend another minute in this swamp I think I'm going to go mad."

Sighing Horvath took another step. His boot went down into the mud; deep. When he tried to pull it out his foot slipped right out of the boot he lost his balance he fell backwards with a splash. He got up as quickly as possible, feeling the mud and swamp slime on his face. What was worse was that he could feel it sucking him in.

Balthazar and Veronica came over, helping him to his feet and getting mud-splattered in the process. Salvaging what dignity he could he grabbed his boot and tried to wipe as much off his face as possible.

"Well let's keep going," he said, trying to swallow the intense distaste he felt for the whole mission at that point.

Giving each other a look the other two apprentices kept moving

"You know what?" said Balthazar thoughtfully, "I think he knew this would happen. Master I mean. Why else would he tell us to just kill it and get it over with? He probably knows we're going to be angry as hell at it."

"I'll think about that later," said Horvath through gritted teeth, "Can't we just get this over with?"

For the millionth time the lantern appeared again. Instead of following it like they'd been doing it Horvath sent a flash of fire towards it. There was a scream and the scent of burning flesh filled the air. Panting heavily Horvath clenched his hand into a fist and closed his eyes. When he'd opened them again Veronica was looking at him with concern. Balthazar was fast retreating into the background.

"Where's he going?" asked Horvath.

Nervously Veronica licked her lips.

"I…thought that would be obvious."

"Well it isn't," he snapped, "I repeat, where's he going?"

"Going to put it out of its misery," Veronica said carefully, "Can't you hear it screaming?"

Concentrating Horvath found that he could. It was a high, keening wail that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed it before. Uncomfortable he looked back at Veronica, who was still staring at him as though she was trying to figure something out. Feeling defensive he said;

"I was frustrated."

"Obviously," she said, shifting from one foot to the other to keep from sinking in the mud, "But…don't you think that that was a little extreme?"

"Like I said," he said, "I was frustrated. Even Balthazar wanted to hurt it bad and he's the patient one."

"He was just joking," Veronica said.  
"Hmph. Do you think he's infallible or something?"

For a minute Horvath thought he saw an odd color come into her cheeks. The next moment it was gone and he put it down to the reflections of the sun on the swamp.

"I don't think he really wanted to see it suffer," she said, "I don't think you did either really, but still."

"I wasn't really thinking," Horvath said honestly, "It's been a long day; it was the first spell I could think of."

"Yes, but we were supposed to follow it and do it that way. By the book," she said, her voice careful.

The screams ended abruptly in a flash of light in the distance, probably one of Balthazar's much beloved plasma bolts. Without the background noise Horvath relaxed a little. He hadn't known just how much it was bothering him until then.

"It was over-the-top," he said uncomfortably, "I mean…I didn't know they screamed. I just…ugh."

"It's the swamp," Veronica said, having to stand on her toes slightly to reach the top of the tall boy's shoulder, "Just try to keep calm, alright? And hey, I have this one spell that can take the mud off of clothes like that."

She attempted to snap her fingers. Instead, being slick with mud, they just slipped past each other. Veronica attempted it twice more before giving it up in disgust.

"Well, you get the picture. If I didn't than do you think I'd be this calm about one of my only dresses getting ruined?"

He grinned at her. She was a projector of light, someone who could make things seem brighter and wipe away many unpleasantries. He knew that they had all been relieved that she had recovered very quickly from having to relive her nightmares.

"You need to ask for more."

"You try asking for clothes sometime," she snorted, "It's just a little embarrassing."

"Well when you need them-"

"I'll ask for more when they fall apart."

Horvath shook his head as he suppressed a laugh.


	13. Chapter 13

Veronica watched the procession from her place beside Merlin and the other two apprentices. Because of his important position at court, Merlin had been given a very good view of the proceedings. She glanced over to her right where the Orkney princes stood. Although they had apologized profusely to her on behalf of their cousin they had wisely stayed out of the way of the apprentices for the past few months. Now the two groups regarded each other warily.

She tried very hard to stay still, but she knew she was fidgeting for a myriad of reasons. For one thing she was in her least worn dress. Veronica didn't like to wear it because it was so fancy and extremely uncomfortable. Still, she knew that she looked quite good in it. Her other reason, and probably the most important, was that she was nervous.

"Announcing their majesties King Lot and Queen Morgause of Lothain and Orkney!"

The two royals strode in with great pomp. Holding her husband's hand Morgause looked radiant in her furs and golden diadem. The years hadn't touched her; she was still as beautiful and youthful as ever. Veronica could say the same about her sister Morgana who had come in earlier. The woman still looked like she had seen her all those years ago; like she had just swallowed something unpleasant.

The two monarchs were duly presented to the King and the court dissolved into the dance that was to precede the banquet. Tactfully Veronica waited until Morgause had said a few words to her ever growing sons. After that Morgause turned her head towards Veronica. Her face didn't show any surprise, just a good degree of pleasure.

"And who's this?" she asked, "Merlin, I don't believe I've met this young lady before. A foreign princess perhaps?"

Seeing the mischievous look in the woman's eye Veronica curtseyed deeply. Morgause smiled again before walking forward and briefly hugging Veronica.

"You've grown up quite well, especially considering that you're being raised by an old man amongst boys," Morgause said, "I'll bet he left it to the servants whenever you needed advice on womanly things."

Merlin snorted, although it was quite true.

"And you know so much about rearing daughters?" he asked, gesturing to her four hulking sons who now stood with their father.

"I'm a woman, that means I have a natural advantage," she said, "Unlike some people here."

Rolling his eyes Merlin shook his head. Despite their casual sniping Veronica knew that the two had a deep friendship rooted in mutual respect that had grown over many years. Whenever he spoke of her he emphasized her impressive magical lineage, although she hadn't inherited its talent. That was 'like' for him. She remembered this particularly well since he had taught them then that even one such as she had extremely magical blood, to be used sparingly.

Shaking his head again Merlin gestured to the two boys.

"With me," he said, "The Kings will be discussing a new treaty, one that I believe I shall have to be present for. It would be good that my apprentices joined me."

Veronica started to move forward in order to follow them, but Morgause put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"What?" she asked.

"Women…aren't allowed to be present at these deliberations," Morgause said.

Her eyes looked over at Merlin who suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"She should go instead of me," Balthazar said, "You know this stuff goes right over my head. She'll be much better at it."

Merlin shot him a glare. With another wave of his arm the other two apprentices followed.

"This stuff really does go over your head," Horvath, the best of the three at analyzing political situations, said to him jokingly.

He chuckled and walked on. Balthazar stopped in mid step though, ducked in and whispered to Veronica;

"I'll tell you what happens."

She smiled at him, grateful for that gesture. After that he had to run to catch up to the other two. Veronica watched them go, her eyes on Balthazar's back.

"You wouldn't want to go anyway," Morgause said soothingly, "It's horribly boring."

"How do you know?"

Morgause smiled to herself.

"My husband knows what's good for him, and that's having me filled in on every detail afterwards so I can help make, or just plain make, the decision. He knows I'm good at this. Only thing keeping me out of that hall is a tradition and everyone knows it."

She smiled again and not for the first time since meeting her Veronica was struck by the quiet power she emanated. Lot had always struck her as being somewhat low on the intelligence scale. He was tall, strong, and looked kingly but she had always wondered how he managed his unruly kingdom. Now she knew.

"Now then," Morgause said smoothly, "It appears that you're in need of some new attire. I do believe I recognize that gown."

Veronica felt herself blush.

"Don't take that the wrong way," said Morgause, "But you need some clothes that aren't made for old women like me."

"You're not that old," Veronica frowned.

"Sweet of you to say so," Morgause replied, "But I turned forty this year. Now, I'm thinking something in lavender and silver. It would match your hair so well…but maybe you're a little young for that. Probably you should have something with a lower neckline though. Oh, you should definitely have something to show off that figure as well; yes. You've grown into a very beautiful young lady and it's time to show it."

Veronica laughed and shook her head.

"Now you're the one who's just being nice."

"Really?" asked Morgause, leaning in conspiratorially, "Because I can see at least ten men in this room who haven't taken their eyes off you all night."

Nervously Veronica laughed again.

"No, it's the truth," Morgause assured her, "I'm going to have to ask my sons to stop doing that, it's rude to look at someone like that. The others though, well."

This time Veronica turned her head and looked around. She noticed then that a couple of men suddenly looked away. The Orkney princes were the least successful; Gaheris had to actually hit Agravaine before he turned away. Feeling an odd, sick sensation in the pit of her stomach she turned back. Noticing her face Morgause hurriedly said;

"It's not a bad thing."

"It's a weird thing," she muttered, "It makes me uncomfortable. I…I'm not…I'm not sure how to handle something like that."

Morgause sighed.

"Here you are, seventeen, almost eighteen and…" her voice trailed off.

When she resumed again her tone had become somewhat more sympathetic.

"Merlin should've made sure you had some sort of feminine influence," she said, "Trust him to not think that sort of thing is important. I doubt the maidservants would dare talk to you about these sorts of things. I'll bet he just assumes the other two are getting advice from their brothers and fathers."

She paused thoughtfully.

"Well, Lord Horvath might be getting some, but too much of the wrong sort. I've heard about him the Lady Elaine, shameless hussy that she is."

Veronica acknowledged this comment with a roll of her eyes. She remembered that blonde giggly thing that Horvath had had hanging on to his arm for nearly a year. The woman had been simpering at best and Veronica couldn't stand to be around her for more than a few minutes. It was at times like these that she was grateful that she hadn't been raised like most noblewomen.

She couldn't understand why Horvath put up with her, although Balthazar had looked embarrassed when Veronica had asked him. Later she overheard the servant's gossip and understood his embarrassment perfectly. In any case both Balthazar and Veronica were relieved, although a tad scandalized, when he didn't marry her.

"Don't worry," Morgause said, smiling at Veronica's expression, "I'm here for a good few months and we'll get everything managed then. And really, it's not anywhere as difficult or uncomfortable as you might think. In fact, one day I think you'll enjoy men fighting over you."

Nervously Veronica looked over her shoulder again. The same men looked away. Uneasily she turned to Morgause and said;

"I don't think so."


	14. Chapter 14

Like Morgause had promised, the new dresses had lower necklines and were more form-fitting. This allowed her collarbones and more of her neck to show through. Now it made her look more like she was her age, highlighting a figure that she could see was rapidly blossoming. Slowly Veronica turned this way and that in the mirror she had been given by the Queen, trying to get used to the new gown.

Overall though the dress was still a rather modest thing. The sleeves extended a little further than the wrists, coming down into a point. It emphasized her delicate hands which, despite long hours at writing and spell casting, were still smooth. Ever since she was a child in the litter she had admired the sophisticated hands that Morgause had possessed. She wasn't vain, but how she took care of her hands was the closest she would ever get.

As for the neckline, yes, it was lower. However, it wasn't anywhere near where she'd seen many women wear it. The hem of her dress still dragged on the floor so much that she knew she'd never be able to wear it whilst travelling, something she did a lot of these days. Even the bodice of the dress wasn't very tight; it simply hugged her somewhat closely.

This dress wasn't the lavender and silver thing that Morgause had described to her. It was a simple light blue, almost devoid of decoration. She turned around on her heels slowly, trying to get a better view of it. While she was most certainly not used to such things, she had to admit that she was enjoying how she looked in the new dress.

"It's the first of a few," Morgause said, helping straighten the dress out around the shoulders, "I just wanted to make sure that your sizes were correct. I'm glad to see that you've used a few of the cosmetic tips. A little light on the lipstick?"

Veronica grimaced when she thought of the waxy red paste that she had been given. She could deal with the charcoal for her eyes and the whitening lotions just fine, but she really did detest the lipstick.

"I'm not much of a fan," Morgause admitted, "I don't see the point in those beauty dots either. They look like bugs crawling all over womens' faces. In any case, there are at least four more of these coming your way. They should be much more fancy and there should be at least one riding gown. I'm trying to have them made in the latest fashion but it's a little hard. Some say go French and others-"

Morgause's soothing speculation about the clothes coming from Cornwall washed over Veronica. She looked at herself in the mirror again. Now more than ever she looked like her newly gained eighteen years. She looked like she belonged in a sorcerer's tower, learning spells and attending important functions with highborn Lords and Ladies. The farmer's daughter was receding fast behind her, gone with her childhood and her family.

Blinking she looked at herself again. It had been eight years since she'd lost that old world and gained a new one. Now after all that time she had found her footing, knowing more and more what she had to do to get around in her life and to navigate the court. The change had been subtle; but it hadn't been a bad one. She had become much more than what her mother could've predicted in her life.

She inclined her head slightly to look at the Queen going on about fashion behind her. The woman moved with an effortless grace, probably the effect of generations of breeding. There was something about her that just put other people at ease. Now, for no particular reason, she was trying to give that confidence to Veronica. She didn't need to. Just like Merlin there was no reason why someone like her should bother with Veronica, to help her become why she had.

"Why are you doing this?" she heard herself say.

Morgause turned around, surprised.

"I mean no offense," Veronica said quickly, "and it's not that I'm not grateful but…I really was just a peasant girl in rags when you saw me first. There was no reason for you to ask my name or to care at all."

Blinking Morgause sat down on Veronica's bed and looked at the girl. For a minute Veronica felt uncomfortable; she had spoken out of turn.

"I patronize many people at court," answered Morgause slowly, "Some are sorcerers, others artists, some bards…the list goes on. I give to abbeys and impoverished villages. There are some nobles who have become my wards."

She stopped for a minute.

"My parents died when I was twelve," she said, "Our house was a noble one, but it had very little money by the time I was born. We were given to their liege lord as wards for him to look after. He resented having to take care of us, hated us. Morgana was fifteen then; she was married off almost immediately and escaped. My negotiations went on for much longer and I grew up not knowing about my future. And then, the summer that I turned fifteen, I met my destiny when he fell off his horse in the woods."

Morgause closed her eyes.

"I can't say it was love at first sight," she said, "But by the time I was sixteen, a little young I know, I wished for nothing more than to marry him. It was around this time though that my guardian stopped hating me. Instead he decided I would serve as a suitable bride for himself."

Her eyes were bitter then and Veronica wished she had not brought the subject up. She opened her mouth to say something but Morgause raised her hand and shook her head.

"No, you asked and it's a story that I do not truly mind telling," she said, "He was fifty years old at the time and his years of cruelty had made me frightened of him. I point-blank refused to be his wife and I felt the consequences. My freedom was greatly restricted, I wasn't even allowed out of the castle. Then someone told him about my love."

Stopping she looked off into the distance.

"I was locked into my rooms and told that he himself would drag me down the aisle himself if I wouldn't cooperate. So I did the only thing I could do; give an indecent amount of my jewelry to a servant to get word to my lover. We concocted a plan together and I escaped."

Getting up Morgause walked over to Veronica.

"It was something of a shock when I found out he was the heir to the throne of Lothain and Orkney later," she said, "But I vowed to myself that when I became queen I would never do what my guardian did to me. I would never trample on people and force them to do my will."

Placing her hands on Veronica's shoulders she said;

"You were never a peasant in rags; even I could see that the first day you appeared. There was a spark, a fire there that needed a little help. Merlin would do that for me, but I could send you on your way with clothes and a friend in a far away place. If I can give assistance to anyone to stop them being where I was, then I will. Perhaps you will do the same one day as well."

Veronica looked at the older woman. It was hard to imagine her falling in love with someone like Lot who seemed her complete opposite. As if she could read her mind Morgause said;

"Often times the people our hearts choose aren't what we expect. Other times they are so obviously perfect for us it's painful that we didn't notice them before."

She looked at Veronica a little oddly before finishing;

"Lot may not be my counterpart but he is everything I could wish for, someone who loves me for my intelligence and wit and not for my dowry or political advantage. Believe me, I came with a host of political problems and nothing as a dowry but a few magical items salvaged from my parents' treasures. Most of all though, I love him back. That's what's most important in the end."

She removed her hands from Veronica's shoulders.

"Now," she said, smiling, "what was I saying? Oh yes, you should learn a few court dances…"


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N: **__Before we start I'd like to apologize profusely and say that I have never been so embarrassed in my life. As many of you have figured out, that was not the chapter I meant to post. It got mixed up with something else, and thus made no sense. Again, I'm sorry for the mix-up, here's the real chapter. _

"Are you ready yet?"

Veronica picked up her skirt and hurried down the remaining steps of the staircase, taking them two and sometimes three at a time. Horvath and Balthazar were waiting at the bottom. Horvath was tapping his foot impatiently while Balthazar was leaning against the wall and appeared to be taking a nap.

Reaching them she pushed back a lock of her dark hair and straightened herself.

"I'm here."

"You're taking longer every day," complained Horvath as Balthazar detached himself from the wall.

"These dresses are a little difficult to get into," she snapped, "They're new and, ugh. I wonder why I bother sometimes, I really do. It's not like I look any good in them and I can't seem to take care of them…"

Her voice turned gloomy towards the end. It hadn't even been a year since Queen Morgause had left and already she had managed to destroy one of the dresses. It had been in a magical mishap and it had become covered in a sticky green substance that wouldn't come out. Seeing how upset she got over ruining gifts from a friend, the male apprentices had tried to be delicate about it.

"Well," Horvath said, his tone sympathetic but honest, "That's not actually true. You look quite nice."

"Thanks."

"Doesn't she Balthazar?" said Horvath, nudging his friend.

Balthazar looked at her and said lamely;

"Um, yeah. Yes…yes of course."

Simultaneously both Veronica and Horvath had glared at him. He looked a little defensive.

"What?" he said, shrugging helplessly, "It's a _dress_. I don't…I don't know about things like that…not good with words..."

"Well who cares what you think anyway?" Veronica snapped, feeling irrationally angry at the comment, "Let's get going. Don't we have to learn something today?"

Sweeping past both boys she stormed into the practice room. He didn't know a thing about how she looked, but he felt that ignorance was a justification. Part of her told her gently that she was overreacting. Why should she care how Balthazar thought she looked that morning? Quashing the feeling and the rationality down, as well as an odd tingling feeling in her stomach, she continued on.

She heard Balthazar mutter to Horvath;

"What did I do?"

"Nothing actually," Horvath frowned, "Maybe she's just in a bad mood."

Veronica looked over her shoulder and both boys silenced. Going up to the nearest table she picked up the instructions that Merlin had left them. She read them silently to herself before handing it to Horvath. The two of them read it together as she picked up the other part of their lesson; a rather large and expensive looking mirror as well as a loaf of bread.

Curiously she looked at the loaf of bread. It obviously wasn't there to be eaten. The sheer hardness of it suggested that it had gone stale several years ago and would now be better used as a weapon than a snack. Experimentally she tapped it on the wooden table a few times, hearing a knocking sound.

"What the hell's a Hungarian mirror trap?" exclaimed Horvath.

"I think it could very possibly have something to do with mirrors, and it just might come from Hungary," joked Balthazar.

"Is that why there's the bread?" asked Horvath, "Hungary, hungry. Get it?"

"If you'll read it a little further," Veronica said, still smarting somewhat from Balthazar's comment but deciding that it was best if she just let it go, "You'll find it's a trapping spell, rather effective but also rather complicated. Basically it looks like you can trap things inside mirrors; people too but I don't think we've got the experience to try it on something that's actually alive yet. I guess that that's the reason for the bread."

"Says here," Balthazar said, looking at the bottom of the scroll of parchment, "That you can get out of it by going through your own reflection. Wonder what happens if you don't get out in time."

"Looks like we're going to find out," shrugged Horvath, "Unless that bread grows legs and walks out all by itself."

"We could always take it out," suggested Balthazar, "There's a spell here for removing someone from it if there aren't any other mirrors in the vicinity-"

Veronica peered over his shoulder at the parchment.

"Looks complicated."

"Looks like the margin for error is extraordinarily slender as well," Horvath observed drily.

"Come one," Veronica said, "Let's get inside the circle."

Taking their positions they began. A few hours later the mirror they had been left was mottled with their fingerprints. Balthazar had managed a slight ripple on its surface, but it hadn't been enough to actually break through it. Finally through a combined effort the surface became watery and they threw the bread through it. Immediately the surface once again became solid and the three relaxed.

"Let's take a break," panted Balthazar.

The other three nodded and moved over to a small table in the training room. There they collapsed into chairs. None of them kept track of the time. Usually when Merlin was there a break consisted of a handful of minutes to take a breather or wolf down the midday meal. When he wasn't there though, the apprentices liked to take things at a slower pace. There was no rush in their minds, never had been.

It was Horvath who first noticed that the mirror was running. Unlike the ripple effect earlier, now it seemed that the image was slowly dripping although it stayed on the plaque. Together they watched the surface of the mirror crack. As one they put their shield spells up, fascinated by what was happening, but also more than just a little wary.

Their paranoia was well justified. Seconds later the mirror exploded, glass shards flying everywhere, ricocheting off of tables, then breaking further so that they looked like drops of rain. With it little bits of soggy, mushy bread plopped onto the ground. Remembering how dry the bread had been when they first started Veronica shuddered a little.

Once things had died down they lowered their shields.

"So…" Balthazar said slowly, "Let me get this straight; if you're in it for too long it makes you go all…gooey, and then you explode?"

There was a pause as the apprentices looked over what had one point been a loaf of bread, a mirror, and a clean training room. Horvath shook his head and turned to Balthazar.

"Remind me** never** get trapped inside of one of these things."


	16. Chapter 16

Balthazar looked over the ball at Court and sighed. For him the midsummer dances and celebrations were nothing new. He was always able to go home around this time of year to his now-married brother who would inevitably drag him along. Horvath was also no stranger to these occasions. They'd been to just as many balls as jousts, the only difference being that they actually enjoyed the latter.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Around the age of eighteen Horvath found that being an eligible dance partner introduced him to pretty, and in many cases complacent, women. Balthazar had always managed to escape dancing by hanging out in exclusively male circles which women tended not to approach. It would just seem improper.

This time though he was out of luck. Horvath had long ago deserted him and all the groups talking were a mix of genders. From the winks that Letholdus was giving him he wondered if this was being done on purpose. At twenty-three he enjoyed the occasions no more than he had when he was ten. In fact, he probably enjoyed them less because women actually went out of their way to try and dance with him.

Right now he could see a group of three partnerless women eyeing him curiously. Swearing to himself he started to make his way out of the hall to the door. If he could just get out of there in time then everything would be alright. It was inevitable that Letholdus would throw a fit later but he didn't care. His brother's matchmaking attempts were clumsy at best and probably would've been better handled by Catherine.

Just as he thought he'd made his escape he saw Merlin walk through the very doors he was headed towards. By his side walked Veronica, resplendent in a green and silver dress. She had kept her hair down so that it fell past her waist, as was her habit. However, he was quite sure that he also saw earrings glint in the candlelight. They were a new fashion, introduced by Queen Isolde of Cornwall he believed. She quickly spotted him and strode over effortlessly.

"Balthazar," she said, "I have to admit I didn't think I'd find you so easily. Trying to make your escape already?"

He smiled sheepishly. He'd told her a week ago, rather reluctantly, about his dislike of balls. She had asked what was so bad about them, having never been to one herself. Balthazar had then told the nineteen-year old girl that she had missed nothing and that he'd switch places with her any time. It appeared that Merlin had had pity on her though and decided to attend his first ball that wasn't attached to a diplomatic function in years.

"Well, yes," he said, trying to figure out how to appropriately explain without looking like a moron.

Just then the three women from earlier came through the crowds. He winced inwardly, bracing himself for the worst. They stared and he started to compose lines of polite, but firm, refusal. Then, inexplicably, they snorted and walked away. Balthazar frowned before figuring this out.

"I think you might be a godsend," he said, "A dance shield."

"A what?"

"They assume I'm going to dance with you," he said, grinning madly, "So they won't ask. All I need to do is stick by you. It's a miracle."

His grin grew. Perhaps things weren't going to be so bad after all.

Veronica felt a pang of regret when she heard the words 'dance shield' explained. She had wanted to go specifically to dance. Since Queen Morgause had taught her how to do so she had been eager to try them out, and balls did sound like fun. There had been a small level of fear in it though; she knew very little people at the court.

The Orkney princes had been called back home, having completed their training. It was likely that they would return sometime as ambassadors in the nearby future, but now they were gone. It wasn't as though she really wanted to dance with boys who would most likely step on her feet, so it wasn't much of a loss.

She hadn't felt especially eager to dance with Horvath either. Although he seemed to know what he was doing on the dance floor, if his bragging were anything to go by, she didn't feel like attracting the glares of half the women of the court. Even his current partner was being given the eye. So that was why she had hoped that perhaps Balthazar would be willing to be her partner.

A week ago, when he told her he disliked balls, she had felt her heart sink. However, she had consoled herself with the thought that he wouldn't be adverse to **one **dance. Now though she knew that he would be. A feeling of 'dressed-up and nowhere to go' came over her. Still, there were many things in the world worse than spending an evening in his company.

As the evening went on she did indeed act as a dance shield for Balthazar. She could see the frown on his brother's face grow deeper from the other side of the room. Veronica pointed this out to Balthazar who insisted that his brother needed to be taught a lesson about who was really in control.

Veronica shook her head and looked over at Letholdus again. Catherine had now joined his side, her stomach swollen from her pregnancy. She said a few indistinguishable words to him and he sighed. Then she saw Catherine turn and look at Veronica and Balthazar. Although she had always filed Catherine away as being sweet and bland, she saw her suddenly look thoughtful. After that she walked out with her husband.

The night started to wind down. At one point she saw Horvath walk out of the room with a girl on his arm. He winked at Balthazar, and then paled when he saw Veronica next to him. She rolled her eyes and he continued on uneasily. Secretly she wondered if he'd run into Merlin before he left and what **he'd** have to say about his apprentice's promiscuity.

There were few couples dancing now and the minstrels were looking tired. From what Morgause had told her she could tell that it would end soon. The way the leader of the minstrels was talking to his troupe they were probably already playing the last song. Veronica couldn't help but sigh a little as the dancers assumed their positions.

"Something wrong?" asked Balthazar.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," she said hurriedly.

He blinked at her. Then he looked at the dancers, then back at her. His eyes widened slightly.

"I'm extremely selfish, aren't I?" he said, "You wanted to-"

"I'm fine," she lied.

Balthazar looked at her again then held out his hand.

"Come on."

"But-"

"Don't make me ask twice," he said.

Smiling now she took his arm and allowed herself to be lead towards the dancers. The music started up again, a tune that she fortunately recognized. Veronica stood next to Balthazar and quickly was swept into a slipping circle. For the next move she went to take his hand so that she could move with the circle.

As she did she felt an odd electric shock. She blinked at the unfamiliar sensation and tried to shake it off. Keeping up with the dances was a little hard after that, but she managed to clap and turn when she was supposed to. She couldn't get rid of the sensation though, and it was telling things to her brain.

_This is the first time you've touched his skin, isn't it? _it said.

She felt inclined to nod but restrained herself from doing so. His hands were calloused and rough from their work. Veronica had avoided this by wearing gloves compulsively; Horvath wore them a good deal as well. Balthazar never had and it showed. Still, they felt warm and she wondered if her hands were cold so that they felt like that. Her hand let go and she moved with the other dancers.

_You were disappointed when you found out he didn't dance, not because you thought you'd miss your chance. You just knew it would make it unlikely to dance with him_, it whispered.

She moved backwards and forwards, clapping again.

_You jumped at the chance of being with him all evening, didn't you? There was no reason why you couldn't have just told him you wanted to dance, left, and done so with Horvath_, it continued knowledgeably, _It wouldn't have been rude and since when have you cared what those arrogant noblewomen thought?_

Feeling on the brink of a revelation she spun around.

_The day you learned about the mirror trap you wanted him to say you looked good. You wanted him to be right in the swamp because you didn't think he'd be cruel. You were touched by his attempts to include you in the deliberations. You're wonderfully happy that he's dancing with you right now, for __**you**__, because he cares about __**you**__,_ it finished.

Veronica took a sharp intake of breath. She moved forward and grasped Balthazar's hands for the next part of the dance, feeling another crippling shock. When he smiled at her, that coupled with the shock nearly brought her to her knees. This time the shock resounded in her head and finally said;

_It's been happening for years now, hasn't it? You just haven't noticed it. You love him._

The truth of this statement rang in her as the dance finished. It filled her, starting with her toes. She knew then that he must know. Everyone must know from the way she looked. The couple next to them must be whispering about it to each other at that very moment. There was no way that he couldn't tell.

Looking up into his blue eyes though, she didn't see that recognition. He frowned at her and cocked his head.

"Are you alright?" he asked, "You look kind of…flushed."

She breathed in. He didn't know. Well, not yet anyway. Perhaps that was for the best. Veronica could tell him in her own time, in her own way.

"I'm fine," she said, "In fact, I'm perfect."

The pure truth of this made her smile.


	17. Chapter 17

"I say that the question of the royal succession is something that we should be worried about," Horvath said.

Balthazar eyed him. It was later in the day, when once more when the apprentices were forced to learn languages. While Balthazar's speaking skills had improved over time to the point that they were better than the others', his handwriting was atrocious. This accounted for the fact that he was still busy working on his assignment while the other two were done.

"Don't try to distract me," Balthazar said, scratching the quill across the parchment, "But I didn't know you were in the mood to talk treason Maxim."

Horvath rolled his eyes and started drumming his fingers against the table top. Technically it was treasonous to speculate on the royal succession. However, he didn't see what was so wrong with planning for the future. It was, after all, becoming closer and closer every day. Soon the future would become the present and then all the people who hadn't thought about it would wish they had.

"Who's going to report me?" asked Horvath, waving his hands dismissively around the library.

Balthazar nodded to concede the point. The only one in the room besides the two of them was Veronica, whom they both knew wouldn't do something like that.

"Alright," Balthazar said, putting his quill down and leaning back in his chair, "I'll bite. So why should we be?"

"Think of it this way," Horvath said, putting the book he'd been perusing back into its proper slot, "King Arthur is forty right? Now, I'm not saying that he's past childbearing age, but he** is** a little on the old side."

"A little on the old side?" laughed Balthazar, "He's nothing compared to Master and you know it. He's practically youthful."

"Well we're not asking Master to sire princes," Horvath said impatiently, "But I see what you mean. At the same time we must think about just how delicate this situation is. It's not the King who's too old for children; it's Guinevere."

"Women have sometimes been known to have children in their forties," Veronica said indignantly from the other side of the room.

Horvath smiled at her, glad that she had brought up this point.

"Yes, sometimes they have," he said, "So it's not entirely improbable that they won't still have children. However, it's somewhat of a slender chance. Seeing how they've been married for twenty years and there's still no child, well. Most Kings by now would've petitioned the Pope for an annulment."

"Arthur isn't most Kings," said Balthazar, "It wouldn't be right for him to do something like that."

"I don't think him leaving this country in chaos is right either," Horvath frowned, "I mean, to just about anyone it seems like the Queen can't conceive."

Pausing Horvath drummed his fingers a little harder. Balthazar looked up and grinned at him before saying;

"Then again, if what they say about Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot is true…"

"That's just gossip," Veronica said shortly, "People will do anything for a scandal, and I'm surprised you're listening to that garbage Balthazar."

"It was a joke!" said Balthazar quickly, looking embarrassed, "I mean, come on! King Arthur's wife and his best friend? Unlikely."

"To return to what I was saying," Horvath said, feeling that they were getting off-topic, "Smoothest succession passes from father to son."

"Uther was Arthur's father, and that didn't go so well. I doubt anyone could call that whole 'sword in the stone' thing was smooth," asked Veronica, walking up to the two men and leaning up against a book shelf.

"That was unfortunate," shrugged Horvath, "But since Arthur is very obviously** not** mad like his father then I don't think we'll have to worry about that. Besides, any of you here want to try something like that? Perhaps we could do a spin on it. Stick a spear in a stone, just to be a bit more original."

"Why would **we** be trying it?" Balthazar asked, raising his eyebrows.

Sighting Horvath shook his head slowly.

"Balthazar, Balthazar, Balthazar," he said, "You don't think Merlin is keeping the three of us around because he got bored and decided to waste time on us do you? We're the next."

The faces of the others went blank. Horvath hastened to add;

"The next sorcerers to advise the next King, whoever he may be. We're the next generation of a breed that Master himself started."

He paused and let that sink in.

"This is a problem that we're probably going to have to deal with," he said, continuing on and feeling pleased by their rapt attention, "The country's had nearly thirty years without a civil war and I've grown quite fond of everything **not **falling apart. It's all I've ever known, all any of us have ever known. Do you really want to lose that because there's no heir?"

Thoughtfully Veronica detached herself from the bookcase. She sat near Balthazar and said;

"I understand what you're saying Horvath," she said, "I really do. I'm not sure it's our time to become politically involved though. We should be paying attention to potential crises, just like you're saying. However, I don't think now is the time. Master is still in his position and he is still doing an excellent job."

"It's doubtful that he's ever going to be out of it," pointed out Balthazar, "Just think about it; he's outlived two of the most dangerous Kings in this era; Vortigen and Uther. And those are just the ones we know of. I doubt he even can die, and he certainly won't do it during the reign of his protégé."

Horvath shared a look with Veronica as the drumming of his fingers increased. While Horvath still had a rather large family intact he wondered if perhaps he understood these things a little better than Balthazar. Both Veronica and Balthazar had lost family; Horvath wasn't sure about the details of Veronica's past but her lack of home visits told him everything he needed to know. She understood though, and he was incredibly grateful to her for that.

Very gently Veronica placed her hand on Balthazar's shoulder. Balthazar turned and looked at the hand for a while before letting his eyes trail up to her face.

"Balthazar," she said softly, "everyone dies. It's not pleasant to think about it, but it's true. Nothing lives forever."

She shook her head before he could speak.

"Master has lived longer than anyone I know or anyone that I have heard of save Methuselah," she said, "But everything dies in the end and that's the honest and unpleasant truth."

Her head inclined in Horvath's direction.

"He's right about us being the next," she said, "I don't believe any of us are Master's heirs; we don't have that sort of power. Yet, I believe that is what he wishes us to be in the future, shapers of good and order."

She smiled at Balthazar.

"We're supposed to help those who can't help themselves, we are but servants," she finished, "Don't you remember him telling us that?"

There was a pause where Balthazar returned the smile. Feeling uncomfortable Horvath said;

"So you understand then? At one point it's going to be the three of us against everything and everyone else. We're going to need each other for more than a few hunts for magical creatures and evil sorcerers. The fate of kingdoms, maybe even the world is going to rest on us, us three."

Balthazar nodded.

"Then again," he said thoughtfully, "If that's true than you're going to have to stop that thing you do with your fingers and the table. It's enough to drive anyone mad."

All eyes were immediately drawn to the fingers that Horvath was still drumming impatiently on the table. There was a brief silence. Then Veronica laughed that light, infectious laugh of hers. Soon they were all in on it; even Horvath who joined after he had hastily withdrew his fingers.

Unbeknownst to them there was another figure who was having to fight back laughter. From the doorway Merlin watched them, feeling confident that he had made the right choice in his apprentices. However, the mirth was abruptly drained out of him, as it often was when he felt sure of his apprentices. After all, he could never fully forget the unease he had carried with him for over thirty years concerning them.

"_Just take care of yourself," an echo of a memory said, "You know I don't make much sense until it's actually happened."_


	18. Chapter 18

_Besides that it looks as though Lot is finally taking an interest in the love lives of his children. He's currently trying to arrange a marriage between Agravaine and one of King Marc's nieces. I told him that it might not be tactful at this point in time. After all, there was just that dreadful incident with his wife Isolde and his nephew Tristan. It's going to take them awhile to recover from that. _

_He did handle it very gracefully though. It can't be a good feeling to find out you've been cuckolded for years and the offender is your favorite nephew. It can't help either that your wife died of grief when she found out that he died of an infected wound, I think. I'm not sure what my reaction would be, but I don't think it would be to bury the two of them together in a joint tomb. So no, I don't think it's time for Agravaine to court the girl._

Nodding in agreement with its words Veronica continued to look over the latest in their cycle of letters. She'd been keeping up a brisk correspondence with Queen Morgause since she had first learned to write. They were usually just about odd and familial things, almost as though she were writing to her aunt or close cousin.

_Of course I hear you have some suitors of your own. Rumors of your marriage prospects are increasing daily. Sir Lamorack and Sir Bedivere have been, to my hearing, rather ardent. I hear though that several are writing the 'raven-haired apprentice of Merlin' poetry. Those are just the two biggest names that are coming up in the Court dispatches. _

_Now I do know that you're not planning marriage yet. I gathered that from the last time I saw you. Perhaps you have someone in mind already._

Blushing Veronica smiled. Even miles away it was as if Morgause could read her mind.

_Perhaps they are not either of these gentlemen. Again though, their names do seem to be being repeated rather often. They've come up so often that several of my retinue are suspecting that a match is being projected between you and one of them. Some are saying that Merlin is trying to marry you off to one of these distinguished Knights of the Round Table. _

Veronica made an involuntary retching noise. It was true that the two of them had been writing poetry and sonnets. That was how, from what had been explained to her, a man was to court a woman he had a fancy for. Many was the time that she had gone down into the library to find Horvath scribbling something out for a lady he had his eye on.

At first it had been somewhat flattering, although uncomfortable, to receive so much attention. When Merlin brought her to court many of the men who had declared unending love in their little poems became tongue twisted when she looked their way. It soon lost its novelty though, especially since she didn't want any of them.

Generally she accepted the poetry, just so that she wouldn't seem rude. Almost immediately after doing so she burned them. They were all the same thing really, the same trite images one after another going on and on about her hair and eyes. It wouldn't do to keep around meaningless scraps of paper. If she got one from the man she loved, then that would be something but she hadn't so it wasn't.

Her mind conjured up a mental picture of Balthazar trying to compose a sonnet. His big loopy handwriting would be all over the page. The man could ruin a piece of paper quickly; nothing like the small elegant script of her other poems. She laughed out loud before turning on to the rest of the letter.

_I said that they must be mad though. I doubt you'd go for either of those two, or that Merlin would let you for that matter. Court gossip has a lot to say about the promiscuity of Sir Lamorack and Sir Bedivere did cut off the head of his first wife. Well, that's what they say anyway. However, King Arthur hasn't brought him to trial for it so he probably knows something that we don't or he just didn't do it. _

That explained the murderous glances Merlin gave him whenever he approached Veronica. His looks for Sir Lamorack weren't exactly flattering either. She was getting somewhat sick of him urging caution around men though. Chastity was both highly prized in women and their reputation depended on it. However, it wasn't as though she had given any of them so much as an encouraging smile.

_On a much lighter note Ragnelle, Gawain's wife, has given birth to a boy. He's been christened __Gyngolyn and we've already given him some pleasant lands in the south of our kingdom. I'm a grandmother now, which is good since I've just started to get gray hairs. I look forward to seeing him grow-up. We've got quite the clan coming. _

Veronica had actually already heard of Morgause's first grandchild from the Orkney princes. They had all been rather excited, even though it put them even further from the throne. She was beginning to think that Morgause had raised them perfectly; not without ambition but with more loyalty to their family.

_I also hear that the elder Lord Blakeson is a father. If the reports are correct the boy's name is Albin and it seems to have been a safe delivery. A boy on the first try is good luck and bodes well for the marriage, like Gawain's firstborn, or so they say. However, I've had four boys and my marriage is still happy so I'd have to say that it's true._

She remembered that day. Balthazar had come in with an odd smile on his face and announced to her that he was an uncle to a healthy nephew. Horvath had been called in and they had congratulated him, although once more they had both heard about the event earlier from other sources. They had decided that they should seem surprised when he told them. It was, after all, his good news to share.

Veronica had suspected that it would be a boy. Merlin had encouraged her to continue her training as a midwife and healer since she came, although she hadn't been involved with Catherine's lying in. She seldom practiced though; mostly it was on the locals or servants who had been injured in some way or another.

Her lessons from her mother were still very fresh in her mind. So she had looked at Catherine for the signs and figured out the child's gender. However, her mother had told her that caution should be used when telling the child's gender. If they were wrong, and they were seldom wrong, they could end up greatly disappointing the parents. Obeying this one rule she had kept her mouth shut and waited for Catherine and Letholdus to find out on their own.

She hadn't gloated on that day either, at least not out loud. Instead they had listened to Balthazar recount with quiet pride inconsequential details about his nephew. He was never overdramatic when it came to declaring affection. Even now he remained an essentially quiet man, if not somewhat of a sarcastic one. He simply spoke with a glint in his eye, which was the only sign of the fierce love that she knew lurked beneath the surface.

Part of her lived for the day when it would be her that was receptive of that love. Perhaps one day she would see him speak about her or address her with that glint, to speak with that elation. On that day though she had been happy enough to get some wine and discuss the joyous event with her fellow apprentices.

When they had finally finished discussing it an unseemly amount of wine had been consumed. It was also very late and they had known that they would have to be up early the next morning, as they were required to every day. So they had stumbled to their rooms with Balthazar murmuring one last time to himself;

"Uncle Balthazar," he said, "Hm. Has a nice ring to it."

Smiling to herself Veronica finished up the letter. The rest of it was filled with chatty little lines and Veronica started to mentally compose a reply. When she finished she picked out a piece of parchment and found her quill and inkwell beneath her desk. The faster she replied the faster she would get an answer back.

Carefully she held the quill between her fingers. She was always careful with writing; always trying to make sure that callouses didn't form. Veronica always made sure to keep her hands smooth and elegant. It would probably seem odd to others, even she laughed at herself over it from time to time. To her though it was the mark of refinement, it had been ever since she had seen first seen Morgause.

Satisfied with her grip she looked down at the parchment. Steadily she dipped the quill into the inkwell, making sure that it had caught the right amount of ink. Carefully she started writing, not wanting to make any unseemly blots. And so her cycle of the correspondence was taken up again.


	19. Chapter 19

_**A/N: **__Alright, I figured out the other day that this story is going to be long, and even posting every day meant that it could go on for months and months. So, to try and cut that time down somewhat, I'm making the chapters longer, but the updates will still stay just as frequent._

Veronica was on the verge of giving up on afternoon rides, grooming, and horses in just about any form. It seemed that unexpected guests only showed up when she was participating in some way with her mare, this time leading it back from her afternoon ride. This new one was a woman though, one escorted by at two ladies and three gentlemen knights. She was arguing with the servants from her horse, which was never a good start.

"Is there a problem?" asked Veronica, wishing inwardly that the rest were back from the court already.

The woman drew herself up haughtily.

"Yes, yes there is," she said, "These people are wasting my time."

She shot an evil look at the chief steward who said calmly;

"Lady Veronica, I was simply telling her that the Master of the house was not in."

"And I told him," the woman said, looking down her nose, "that I'm not looking for Lord Merlin. Honestly; the pigheadedness of some people."

Veronica shared a look with the steward. She wondered just how much the servants were paid to put up with this kind of nonsense on a daily basis. Nodding to them she said;

"I'll take it from here."  
Gratefully the chief steward and the others hurried away. Putting on a winning smile Veronica said to the woman;

"We haven't been introduced. I'm-"

"Yes yes, Veronica," the woman said dismissively, "I know. I'm Lady Eleanor of Kent."

The lack of an honorific stung. While Veronica technically didn't have one, most people put it there just to be polite. Even if she wasn't a sorcereress she would've been given one if she was around the court enough. It was just like Mr. or Ms. in these parts. Ignoring this, like she had so many other slights over the years, she said with a bland but tight smile;

"I'm sorry for your trouble Lady Eleanor, but who are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for Lord Blakeson," she said, sniffing her nose.

There was a pause in which Veronica tightened her grip around her horse's reigns. Her smile froze before she said;

"I appear to be apologizing to you a great deal, but he is not in either. He, Lord Horvath and Lord Merlin have gone to court. They should be back sometime-"

"Then this trip is wasted!" Eleanor exclaimed angrily.

She looked down at Veronica as though she were personally responsible. That was it. Veronica was in no mood to be treated as though she were an inferior by yet another bratty noble.

"Perhaps if you had checked first he would be in," Veronica said sweetly, "Or perhaps he did know you were coming and was simply not feeling up to seeing you? I know I'm not."

The indignant look on Eleanor's face was enough to give Veronica a real smile.

"I've never…never been so insulted by someone of…of your…your…" she sputtered.

"Status?" finished Veronica helpfully, "I'm **very **surprised."

One of Eleanor's ladies in waiting stifled a giggle behind her sleeve. Red-faced Eleanor snapped;

"Fine. When next I see my **fiancé **I'll be sure to tell him of your insolence."

Without another word she turned her horse around. Her small party followed her and Veronica slowly watched them go with ice in her blood. Numbly she led her horse back into its stall and locked the gate behind it. After that she walked back to the Keep and into the training room. She sat down, still with a blank expression.

Soon came the deep breathing that to Veronica was a flood of tears. She didn't know how long Balthazar had been engaged, but she knew it must've been the doing of his brother. Why hadn't he told them though? Surely he couldn't see this as unimportant. She knew that she should have confessed her love earlier, but it had only been a few months. How could she have found the right time, the courage to do it before now?

Her hands fisted around her skirt as she continued her uneven breathing. Veronica began chewing on her lip, another sign of distress for her. Soon though, things started to change. Her grief disappeared, not entirely, but it just needed to be buried for a little while. It hurt too much. They would be back soon, but the grief had to be replaced. So she used the only other emotion she felt; anger.

Balthazar walked into the training room, Horvath at his back.

"So, Sir Lamorack against Sir Lancelot in a joust," Horvath said.

"Hard to say," replied Balthazar, "Sir Lancelot has only ever been unhorsed once in living memory, and that was by his son. If one was to compare the two you'd say that Sir Lamorack was stronger, but the thing about Lancelot is that he's been doing this for a lot longer than Lamorack."

"Well yes," said Horvath, "But-"

"You're back then."

Both of them looked over at Veronica who was seated at the table with her back turned to them, thumbing calmly through a thick sheaf of parchment. Cheerfully Balthazar said;

"Yeah, and guess who was told to shut up about things he didn't understand by no less than Sir Lancelot? Mordred. Moron just stood there like he'd been smacked."

There wasn't any visible response from Veronica. She rustled the stack listlessly.

"I had a visitor today," she said, ignoring his earlier comment, "A very rude one. In fact I would go so far as to say an **exceedingly** rude one."

Both of the male apprentices looked at each other.

"Did you hex them?" asked Horvath, "About time if you ask me. People take the craft too much for granted these days."

"Maybe you should've just jinxed them," Balthazar said, shooting a look at Horvath, "A hex could near kill them."

"It'll teach them not to be rude," muttered Horvath.

"I didn't hex or jinx anyone," Veronica said, delicately putting the papers down and getting up, "Because I was under the impression you'd be rather displeased If I did so Balthazar."

He could feel a slight sensation of panic. He sent a 'Oh God what did I do?' look at Horvath who shrugged. He did notice that Horvath was starting to edge away from him, as though reluctant to be involved in the next few moments though. Swallowing hard Balthazar said the only thing he could say;

"Why?"

Veronica turned around to face him and smiled venomously. She walked a little closer, the parchment still in her hands. Then the world drew in a breath, and Veronica flung the sheets of parchment at his face. Balthazar threw up his hands and swatted the parchments away. Before he had even opened his mouth to make an inquiry Veronica snapped;

"Next time, warn me that your claptrap speaking dunce of a fiancé is coming! Or at least tell me she exists so I don't stand looking at her like a sheep! Eyes of God, have you lost your senses meeting her here! And further more-!"

Balthazar's hand shot up. Veronica stopped abruptly and he wondered if he looked as furious as he felt, as utterly and completely consumed by hatred.

"Let. Me. Get. This. Straight," he hissed, his voice getting louder on each syllable until he was fully aware that he was shouting, "My _**WHAT**_ came here?"

Veronica hadn't had to repeat herself. Instead Balthazar had just growled and stormed out of the room. His words were indistinguishable, although she was sure that she had heard 'kill', 'my brother' and 'how dare he?'. Horvath waited until he was safely out of the room before he started laughing.

"Letholdus is in for it now," he chuckled, "I can't imagine facing him in that state. The man's going to be terrified."

He stopped and looked sympathetically at Veronica.

"You were really upset back there. Was she **that** bad?"

_No_, she wanted to say, _Just the usual. Mordred was worse. Then there was the Countess of Huntingdon, she was very bad too. But…she wasn't engaged to the man I love_.

"Yes," she lied, "She was awful."

"Well, he'll get himself away from that harpy, just you watch him," Horvath laughed, "Oh saints, I've got to go tell Agravaine about **this**!"

Still laughing he left the room. Veronica waited until his footsteps had died before kneeling down to pick up the parchments. After a minute though, she forgot about them and resumed her heavy breathing. By now she was almost sure that her lip was bleeding. She had thought that she would be spent after her tirade to Balthazar, but instead she just felt worse.

Yes, it was true that he most likely would get out of this, but what about next time? What about the next eligible girl that his brother picked out for him. What if he wouldn't be able to say no to her? Or worse yet, what if he fell for her? What if, and this hurt worst of all, she confessed immediately to avoid that and it turned out he just didn't feel the same way?

Hugging herself she bowed her head. She had acted stupidly when she saw him again, losing her temper. She had been stupid about the whole thing. She had always assumed that if she waited she'd know for certain how he felt, and that it would be in her favor. Now, being practical, she had grown up with him. It was very likely that he viewed her as a little sister, and her confession would then be disastrous. If he didn't feel the same way it could easily ruin everything.

She couldn't go on like this, feeling like she was seconds from collapsing. However, she couldn't leave, not forever. Or could she? It was something that she would have to figure out, but she couldn't do it there. She couldn't do it around him; in a place she was attached to and would have to leave if she realized she couldn't handle it. Tiredly she placed her hands on the floor.

The motion shuffled the papers that she had thrown earlier. Veronica looked down at them and started to organize them back up. Then a word, a name caught her eye. After that she picked the paper up and read almost hungrily, devouring the report. It made so much sense that it felt like a miracle.

"LE-THOL-DUUUUSSSS!"

Balthazar shoved the doors open so that they banged against the walls. His brother stood at the other side of his great hall with Catherine. She was holding their son in her arms, and at his entrance all three looked at him like he'd gone mad. That was just as well, because in a very real sense of the word he had. Striding angrily towards Letholdus he demanded;

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

"Balthazar!" Letholdus said, making gestures with his hands for the man to keep his voice down.

"HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME?"

"Bal-" he tried again.

This time Balthazar grabbed him by the shirt collar. Even though he was several years younger he was also nearly a foot taller than his brother, although probably not stronger. At the moment though he was too mad to care what the repercussions of his actions were, just focusing on the rage that was flowing through him.

"THE LEAST YOU COULD'VE DONE WAS TELL ME WHEN I GET ENGAGED SO I COULD YELL AT YOU RIGHT THEN AND THERE!" he howled.

"That's what this is about?" asked Letholdus, calming down a great deal but sounding angry, "Then I'd appreciate it if you'd stop shouting. You're scaring Albin!"

Through gritted teeth Balthazar looked over at his nephew. His brother hadn't been lying; he just hadn't been able to hear the baby's bawling over the pulse of his blood through his ears. Catherine was shaking her head disapprovingly at the two of them, trying to rock Albin into submission. Reluctantly he let Letholdus go. After gingerly touching his neck Letholdus gestured to the table.

"Have a seat."

Balthazar did so. Albin finally calmed down and Catherine sighed.

"This had better be good," Balthazar growled.

"Let me start by saying that we are only undergoing marriage **negotiations** at the moment," Letholdus said, "Nothing is set in stone."

"Even if it was I would break it off," snapped Balthazar, "How could you not tell me? I'm not a child!"

"Evidently," said Letholdus, rubbing his neck again, "You've got a grip on you like a vice. I was going to tell you, and soon. How'd you find out?"

Bitterly Balthazar recounted what Veronica had said to him. Catherine arched an eyebrow and took a seat. Letholdus sighed and sat down across from his brother.

"She always seemed so proper," he said, "Oh well. I can start searching for another one soon-"

"**Another** one?" asked Balthazar in disbelief, "I didn't want a **first** fiancé!"

"So you want to be alone all your life?" inquired Letholdus, "I know you resent my meddling in your affairs but you haven't been making **any** progress and you're what, twenty-three?"

"Nearly twenty-four," mumbled Balthazar.

"Close enough," Letholdus said dismissively, "I just want to see my brother settled down. I suppose it's my son that's making me see things in the wider spectrum."

Leaning back Balthazar regarded his brother warily.

"Don't use Albin as an excuse. It's not that I don't appreciate you being concerned about me," he said, "But this is something that I think I should handle myself. I've never even met this Eleanor for example-"

"You have on several occasions," said Letholdus pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No I haven't."

"Eight times over the last year to be precise," Catherine said smartly, "We're acquainted through her uncle's wife, who's my second cousin. I introduced you to her myself. You know her better than all the other eligible women whose names came up."

The fire crackled from the grate, filling the silence.

"I don't remember her," Balthazar said bluntly, "Besides, you need to learn some more about me. I'm guessing she's conceited, noble, and without a thought in her pretty little head. You can't think that that's the kind of woman I want to spend my life with."

"And what is the kind?' asked Letholdus, "I'm somewhat at a loss here."

"Someone who's good and clever!" Balthazar burst forward, "Opinionated but not arrogant, sweet and strong and…and…and…"

He stopped, unsure of how to go on. Letholdus' face contorted and Catherine smiled.

"You're in love with that other apprentice, that…that Veronica, aren't you?" Letholdus groaned.

"What?" spluttered Balthazar, "Of course not."

"Really?" asked Letholdus skeptically.

"Yes really," Balthazar stammered, "She's like…like…a sister. Why?"

Sighing Letholdus sank back into his chair. He put his head in his hands so his brother couldn't read see the expression on his face.

"All right, we'll do this your way," he said, "Just don't dawdle on it for too much longer."

He looked up and smiled at him.

"Let's just hope when my child is older that one day he'll have some cousins from his Uncle Balthazar."

Balthazar snorted and shook his head. Pushing the chair back he left the hall. As soon as the doors shut Catherine gently placed her fingertips on his Letholdus' shoulders as if to say;

"I told you so."

He looked up at Catherine.

"Fine fine," he said, "Just a matter of time until he acknowledges it. I hope for his sake that he does soon. Saints in heaven how he complicates things."


	20. Chapter 20

"Master?"

"Yes Veronica?" Merlin said wearily, his quill writing his eighth letter that day.

She nodded politely and came in. He noticed that she was gripping a sheet of parchment in one of her hands.

"I was reading this," she said, "It…it's a report of a sighting of a manticore up in the north. Apparently it escaped from a two-penny conjurer and has been eating travellers, a heavy burden in a trading area such as this."

"Yes yes, I remember that one. I'll send Horvath or Balthazar to take care of it," he said, not looking up, "I only have two hands."

"Actually," Veronica said timidly, "I was wondering if I could do it."

His quill stopped in the middle of a word. Putting it down quietly on the table he turned slowly towards her.

"I know I haven't done a solo mission yet," she explained quickly, "But I'm well aware of how to handle manticore and I am just as qualified as the other two-"

"I am aware of that," Merlin said sharply.

She fell silent. Inwardly he wondered if she knew exactly how powerful she really was. 'As qualified' was a woeful understatement. She had always been the quick learner, running at a astounding pace to catch up to the other apprentices. It never ceased to amaze him that she didn't know that in all her running she had left the other two behind and was now a higher degree than either of them.

"I am convinced of your skills. But Veronica," he said, "it's in the north."

"Yes Master."

"The **north** Veronica."

"Yes Master," she repeated, a touch of impatience in her voice now.

"The north, up near Scarborough," he said, to make sure that she fully understood what she was asking.

"I know," she said.

He looked at her, hard.

"Any reason for wanting to visit?" he asked.

Veronica shifted from one foot to the other.

"It's been ten years," she muttered, "I don't think it will hurt me any to revisit the place of my birth."

Merlin continued to look at her. She had always been something of an enigma to him, this third apprentice. The others had something that he could use to explain some of their behaviors. Veronica though, she never asked for anything and revealed even less. Her feelings ran deep and the walls around her seemed insurmountably high at times.

He had never seen her cry. It bothered him to the greatest degree that this was so. Horvath and Balthazar had cried from injuries; Horvath had cried once when his uncle had died. However, he had never seen her cry. Veronica had been injured, she had attended sickbeds that had turned to death beds, delivered dead children, and he had never once seen or heard of her crying.

Getting up he examined her for a few more minutes. She was standing in front of him with a hand clenched behind her back, obviously convinced that he was going to pursue the line of inquiry. He knew he was going to as well. He would be a fool not to, and while he was many things, he was no fool.

"Does this have anything to do with Balthazar's fiancé?" he said slowly and thoughtfully, "You do know that was a misunderstanding."

She swallowed.

"I have already heard that," Veronica said calmly, "And I do not feel like answering that question."

"Why's that?"

"Because then I would have to lie."

This time Merlin had to repress a sigh of pity. He understood all too well what this girl was feeling.

"Are you intending to return from this trip?"

"Yes, yes of course," she said, sounding shocked at the idea, "I…I mean…I can't not come back. I just…I just need some time to think, that's all."

She shifted uncomfortably as she spoke. He looked at her for a few more minutes, this odd girl whom he had displaced at such a young age. Sighing tiredly he returned back to his chair and sank down ungracefully into it. He rested his hand on the table, leaned his head into it, and closed his eyes.

Sometimes Merlin wondered if he had done right by this girl. She had been the most unexpected of his apprentices, and also the one he himself had had to care for the most. He wondered now, as he sometimes did when she did something strange or his confidence was low, if he should've left her with Paul. The family had been struggling with poverty though, and he thought that taking her out of there would be good for her.

To him it had seemed obvious that her destiny didn't lay in Scarborough. Any sorcerer worth his salt could've seen that this girl was headed for great things. He had thought of, and accepted, the fact that by taking her with him he was essentially adopting this girl. He had known then what he was doing, or at least he had thought he knew what he was doing.

In truth he knew very little about children. He had played an essential role in raising Arthur, but he wondered sometimes if he had done that right. Like Arthur he had raised, or rather **trained**, Veronica to be honest and a servant to the greater good. It had turned them both into remarkable and respected individuals. Now though, when they wanted something for themselves, they were hesitant to reach for it. They were unsure of themselves, scared of rejection, and it was his fault.

"_You know can't resist yourself when you see talent, see a chance to make the world better. It's your greatest quality and your greatest failing_._ You want to take the burden on yourself, make sure that everything comes out alright. After that you try your best which is more than many could, or should, ask for._"

Merlin closed his eyes briefly, just to catch a glimpse of the speaker in his mind's eye. However, she was right. She was always right. What had happened had happened. In his mind what Veronica was doing was highly logical, going away to think on her situation and find an answer. Once more he had been there more times than he would like to admit.

"_Just take care of yourself," the memory said in deep melancholy, "You know I don't make much sense until it's actually happened."_

Logical didn't always mean right though. He wanted to tell her all of this, to tell her that he approved of what she was doing. She was facing her demons, more than she even knew of or acknowledged at the moment. Veronica didn't know what she was undertaking and he felt the urge to warn her. However, this was a lesson she would best learn by herself.

"As long as you return," he said, "This is yours. Good luck."

"Thank you Master."

"You are coming back, right?"

Veronica sighed as she turned away from packing her horse. For the sake of her journey she had changed into a white linen gown with a light gray cloak. It was her travelling attire, something commissioned by Queen Morgause. Horvath had been surprised when he had first seen it, since the other dresses the woman had given her had been ostentatious and flashy. This was rather lower key that he had expected.

However, it appeared that Morgause did have something of a practical streak in her. White blanchet was the least expensive cloth out there and would attract the least amount of attention. It also looked ridiculously good on her with her dark hair spilling down the back of it. Many had been the time on their journey that a passerby would pay her a compliment or love struck men would be more forthcoming with information because of her.

Sometime between getting her permission and changing into that gown Horvath had heard from one of the servants of her impending departure. He had pried for more details and had gotten the entire story from them. Inwardly he had drawn his own conclusions from this and hurried down to the stables.

When she had first seen him she had been surprised. Veronica was obviously trying to leave in a great hurry, boxes and bags of supplies were already scattered around her. Deciding to be subtle at first he had given her an offer to help prepare her for the impending journey. She had accepted and he was relegated to sorting through necessary items.

Her Incantus, in pocket form, was obviously one of the things that needed to be packed. Her sword was another. While no one would approve if they heard of it, Merlin had had Veronica trained in sword play. There were far too many monsters out there who needed to be killed by decapitation for it to be left out. Merlin had dawdled too much on the decision though, and she started to learn their lessons much later than they.

Because of this fencing was one of the few things that Horvath could confidently say that he and Balthazar were better than her at. However, the gap wasn't too terribly wide. It was simply that she disliked using it and was only packing it now because manticores were one of the creatures that needed to be killed by removing its head.

Other things were less practical. There was a sack that he had tried to pick up and put on the horse several minutes earlier. When she saw him with it she had let out a small shriek and snatched it from his hands. Veronica had immediately apologized but then told him that he was in no way to touch it. From this he had gathered that it had something to do with why she was leaving.

Time had dragged on. With no new information coming his real reason was showing through and he decided to make a more direct approach. That was why, in the end, he had simply blurted out his question.

"Everyone seems to make the ridiculous assumption that I am not returning for some reason," she assured him casually, "I can't understand why."

"You were the one who suddenly got a hankering to go back there," Horvath pointed out, throwing a few things into a saddle bag, "You can't say that doesn't look suspicious."

"I just feel it's time to go home for a while," she said.

Immediately she bit her lip. Turning to look at her Horvath said;

"But **this** is your home!"

"Yes, yes and no," she replied, biting her lip again, "It's just…it's my home but at the same time it isn't."

"Well that's wonderfully vague," snorted Horvath.

"Listen to me," she said, "I would tell you if I could. It's just that it is very difficult to explain."

"Try."

Sighing she looked back at Horvath as though she were considering something. He hoped that she knew if she told him the truth he would be tactful enough not to tease her about it. While he seemed like it would be the kind of thing that he'd do, he wasn't. He cared about his fellow apprentices too much to fling such painful things in their faces. Their trust was something that he had carefully cultivated, and he hoped that she would trust him with this.

Just when he thought that she was going to tell him she shook her head and sighed. Horvath felt irritation rise as she went back to tying another saddlebag to the horse. There was a pause and he wondered if she was going to answer his question at all. At long last she turned back to him and said.

"This place my home in the same way Scarborough isn't and it isn't in the same way Scarborough is. And to be perfectly honest that's the closest I can come to explaining it...and I need time to think."

Shaking his head Horvath put a hand on her shoulder.

"I suspect asking you what you need to think about…would be bad?" asked Horvath slowly.

She nodded, obviously grateful for his understanding. He just wished that she would trust him enough to tell him why she was really leaving, and if this was going to be the last time he would see her.

"Just for a visit then?" he asked.

"Yes, of course it's just for a visit," she said, her fake cheerfulness giving him a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He removed his hand, looking unconvinced.

"Well, it'd better be. Hope you have a safe jour-"

"I just heard," Balthazar interrupted as he hurried into the stables, his eyes darting around wildly, "You're leaving?"

"Just for a solo mission!" she said, throwing up her hands, "Everyone acts like I'm running away or something. The two of you leave the Keep all the time and I never say that to you!"

He gave her a look then which made her turn away. Horvath wondered if Balthazar was thinking the same thing he was. A shared look confirmed that he was.

"It's nothing much," she said, "I'll be back no later than a few weeks or so-"

"Doesn't take weeks to kill a manticore," Horvath interrupted.

"It does when one is being rather generous with travel time," she said, "Listen, I'm coming back alright?"

They both cast doubtful looks at each other.

"I'll see you then," she said, mounting her horse.

"Safe journey," Balthazar said, looking at her oddly.

"Safe journey," echoed Horvath.

Gripping the reigns she urged her horse out of the stall. Without a word they watched her until she was outside the thick walls of the Keep. Both of the male apprentices looked at each other and shook their heads. It was plain to both of them that they would not see her for a long time.


	21. Chapter 21

Travelling had never been this hard before, not in Veronica's memory. She had thought it would be a good deal easier, she'd believed that she had all contingencies. She had packed enough supplies and had taken the fact that it would be snowing soon into account. After that she thought it would just be a matter of getting to her destination like she had in the past with Horvath and Balthazar.

However, she had forgotten one important detail; Horvath and Balthazar were no longer with her. To the untrained eye she looked like a woman travelling alone, in other words easy pickings. She had been in such a hurry before she left that it Veronica hadn't even considered it being a problem. When she was actually on the road though, she found herself fighting off bandits of all kinds who were surprised to find their quarry casting spells.

Her horse continued on, its breath spilling out into the freezing air. The winter got colder as she went up north, repelled somewhat by her skill at warming charms. She had taken the time to cast a few on her horse as well, knowing inwardly that the poor beast must be suffering as much, if not more, than she was from the cold.

All in all she was feeling rather foolish. Running away from her problems had seemed to be the reasonable solution. In the end though all she was given was the consequences caused by her lack of forethought. If Merlin was there he would've come up with some sort of deep lesson from it, but all Veronica could come up with was; don't be so stupid.

It wasn't even as though the trip had served to take her mind off of her situation or help her find a solution. Endless hours were filled with the same questions and doubts as before. They were following her into her dreams, taking the form of questions in work assigned by Merlin that she couldn't answer.

Nor was her location helping in the slightest. Being closer to her childhood home was hard; she had expected it to be so. Recognizing old places was worse than what she'd imagined though. She had once been where she was now as a little girl, playing with her brothers. Around every corner she thought she could remember Luke, Michael, or Joseph playing tag with her. The wind whistling sounded far too much like her mother or father calling them all home.

In the end; coming there had been probably the biggest mistake in her life. Veronica had simply weighed her options and thought that it was the closest place resembling another home that she had; or at least something felt familiar enough to be a home. She had thought that by this point in her life she would be able to deal with her old fears and tragedy without the familiar stabbing sensation in her chest. Obviously she'd been wrong.

She shook her head. She was near enough to Scarborough now that she actually had to start looking for the manticore, her reason for being out there in the first place. Even more than that, she knew that she was very close to it now. Veronica could feel the faint magic in the air like a distant smell.

Dismounting her horse she tied it to a tree, securing it with magic. Manticores had a reputation for being omnivores with a ferocious appetite and she wasn't about to risk her means of transportation. At least now she was doing the smart thing, the logical thing, the forethought. Shaking her head at herself she unsheathed her sword and started to follow the magic through the snow, steadily feeling it growing stronger.

Her foot crunched on something. Looking down she saw a long bone only partially hidden by snow. It had been scratched up horribly and she could see where it had been cracked open for marrow. There were even a few pieces of flesh frozen to it. Veronica had only to make a rudimentary study of it before knowing that it came from a human, and a very small one at that. She shuddered slightly; a child.

Going a little further she found fresher bones with flesh and skin that hadn't even begun to decay. Knowing that she was very close now Veronica raised several shield spells around herself. They wouldn't protect her against more than just a rudimentary first attack, but that was all she would need if the thing only caught her by surprise. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the task that lay ahead of her.

What she didn't expect were the screams that pierced the air. Running forwards she saw a giant creature with the body and head of a lion, but the wings of an eagle. A stinger of a scorpion curled over its back, and it was currently ripping off the arm of a boy no older than nine. When it jerked him back it revealed two younger girls he had attempted to cover with his own body. Although his face was contorted with terror, the revelation that he had risked his life to try and help them was obvious.

Other members in his caravan had shrunk to the pitiful safety offered by their wagon, obviously terrified. Veronica was, momentarily, floored by the blatant abandonment that was being committed. However, the boy's screams snapped her out of her reverie and made her start picking her method of attack. The two girls had launched themselves at the creature, only to be battered away.

One of them hit the ground and rolled on her back. The girl turned around. Seeing the easy prey the manticore swooped down with its tail towards the girl's stomach. Clearing her mind Veronica summoned flames to her sword-free hand before flinging it at the manticore. It howled in pain and the smell of sizzling flesh filled the air.

_Yvainne called out desperately to her children, trying to warn them. Veronica never heard her mother's last words though; they were overshadowed by a bolt of lightning. There was a scream and a smell like she would never forget that filled the air, acrid and pungent. Her mother fell down, her dark hair flowing behind her and smoke coming from her body._

The manticore's roar shattered the air as it charged towards her, abandoning its former prey. For a second she could see the awed look in the childrens' faces before she reminded herself that there was work to be done. She sidestepped the manticore just in time to avoid the scorpion's stinger, which came down hard into the ground. Swirling around she nicked its tail with her sword. Purple venom spilled out of it and the creature roared again.

This time the stinger collided with the tail. A metallic sound filled the air and the stinger whirled around again, locking with her sword. She brought up her sword the block it, grateful both for the strength of the sword's steel and the fine grip provided by her gloves. Twisting the sword in her hand she broke free of the stalemate.

_Horvath had been the one to teach her how to use the sword; out of all of them he was the best at it. However, it was Balthazar who had realized the disadvantage she had with her shorter reach and smaller frame. He had showed her that she should fight with the sword two-handed if it was a broadsword and only one-handed if it was a short sword. Balthazar had helped her with the technique, making sure that she never had to rely on magic alone._

The manticore swiped its paw at her. Claws flashed in front of her face. Veronica only managed to avoid being marred by a hair's breadth. It swiped at her again. By moving quickly she was able to avoid the claws, but not the back of the paw. From the glancing impact she was knocked backwards. Veronica slammed against a tree hard, but still managed to keep a hold on her sword. Hitting her head she sank into the snow.

_ Luke's arms went limp and she hit the forest floor. At first she wondered if he had gotten tired, or perhaps ducked to avoid another spell. She shook him gently after crawling out from under his form. Her panic grew as he didn't respond. Knowing what had happened, but not wanting to believe it, she turned him over to see eyes that stared but no longer saw._

Struggling she got to her feet as it came towards her again. Veronica picked herself up, formed her stance, and made ready for it. With another swing of her sword she managed to cut off its tail entirely. More purple splashed into the air, burning into the ground. She quickly put up a shield around herself and the children, one of which was moaning in the snow. The venom was repelled and the creature started to chase its tale, still roaring.

Before her eyes the tail started to heal, but the creature knew that it couldn't win this fight. With its next move it started to flap its wings, gaining altitude and obviously attempting to make its escape. Sticking her sword into the ground Veronica moved her hands around, one clockwise and the other counter clockwise. A plasma bolt formed in her hands and she shot it at the escaping beast.

_She had always been in awe of how quickly Balthazar could make a plasma bolt. As she watched him now firing them at trees for target practice she observed his form. It was perfect; a work of art. There was something so effortless about him that made her want to move closer to him, and not just physically. She wanted to tell him everything, but felt her voice desert her the moment he turned around and grinned. _

The manticore's wing was blasted off and it fell into the snow. Not wasting another moment she picked up her sword and leapt at it. Veronica brought her sword down in a long arc and the beast's head was severed from its body. She watched as its body continued to struggle for a few more minutes, finally giving up the battle. Not feeling up to watching it dissolve she sheathed her sword and hurried to the side of the children.

The girls watched her with wide eyes. The boy just continued to moan listlessly. Being used by this point in her life to decapitated limbs Veronica gingerly picked the arm up and taking great care to place it exactly where it had once connected to the shoulder. Taking off one of her gloves she said soothingly;

"This may feel a little funny, but it will be over soon."  
Touching the disconnected arm and shoulder she closed her minds. Mending something this complex was difficult for her, but not impossible. It was just hard to keep in mind all of the skin, bones, and tendons. Even so the arm would never again be the same. Soon she felt the skin mend itself under her fingers.

Opening her eyes she nodded at a job well done. The adults were starting to file out of the wagon now, whispering to themselves. Seeing them her eyes narrowed and she got up.

"Cowards," she said, "Letting them face that thing for a few more seconds of your miserable lives."

Ashamed the adults looked at the ground. Shaking her head she turned to the girls who were now helping the boy up. The girls looked fine, but somewhat shaken.

"Is he your brother?" she asked, gesturing to the boy.

The elder of the two, about five, shook her head.

"Uncle," she said.

"You have a very brave uncle then," Veronica replied, knowing that it wasn't too uncommon to find children with uncles so close to their own age, "Make sure he doesn't stress that arm too much."

She remained with the group until it was on the outskirts of the village. Many of the other members of the parties were wary of her, and somewhat quiet from her earlier tone. When they reached the outskirts of the village she turned to go. There was one last thing she knew she had to do before she could even think of returning to the Keep, and she knew she had to do it alone.

"Miss?" the girl cried out.

Veronica looked over her shoulder.

"Are you an angel miss?" she asked.

Laughing she shook her head, wondering at the innocence of the child.

"Just a sorceress," she said.


	22. Chapter 22

Paul was not a thoughtful man. He wasn't particularly bright either, that much he knew. He had always had an assured place for him though. His father had been a blacksmith, his father before that, and so on and so forth. Paul had a way with metal and had simply worked it in order to go and make his living, and it wasn't a particularly profitable living at that.

He had always considered himself blessed that he had been a simple man, living a simple life. His good friend and distant cousin, Yvainne, had been decidedly cleverer than him. She'd had talent, magic, and helped people. In the end though he had watched her killed in front of her house and the birds pick her carcass clean.

The one time he had ever involved himself in affairs he didn't fully understand had been to save her daughter. It had frightened him, keeping her safe all those months. It had frightened him even more to cross into Camelot and fetch Merlin. Before Taurus he had never been outside of Scarborough. However, he had somehow managed it all and become a hero to his town.

When Veronica left with Merlin everything had changed. People whispered that God had blessed him for saving the child when no one else had raised a finger. Paul didn't know about that, but things had taken a miraculous turn for the better. There had been an increase in business and his wife had become pregnant again. They had been given a son, and he had been named Stephan.

While he loved his daughter Mary dearly he had always longed for a son. It was a son who would carry the family name and continue his business. However, he was glad that Mary had now happily married her childhood sweetheart, Hector. They had two little girls, Elizabeth and Lily, granddaughters who were only slightly younger than their uncle.

His family had been his pride and joy as it increased in numbers and strife disappeared from the area. The greatest tragedy that had happened to him since Yvainne had died was the loss of his wife three years ago. So he had been anxious when his grandchildren had begged to go to a play a town away. He had been rendered lame in the leg by an accident a few years ago, and everyone had said he had been very lucky not to lose his leg. Travelling long distances had been out of the question for a very long time.

Hector and Mary couldn't go, since Mary was nine months pregnant and expecting soon. It was a worrying enough situation since their only midwife had died months before and the girl she was training had left to come back better qualified. The idea of Hector leaving her for any amount of time was ludicrous.

In the end several of their neighbors had told him that they were going anyway and would take care of them. Although he had had a bad feeling about it, there was a dangerous creature in the woods after all, his grandchildren had begged him and he had never been strong when it came to refusing them something.

When it became dark out he started worrying. After a few more hours he started to organize a search party with his frantic son-in-law. They were just about to set out when they arrived back. Stephan had recounted the story, showing them the scar that ran all around his shoulder where the skin had mended. Paul and Hector had had some sharp words with their neighbors and they had promised to make amends.

However, Paul couldn't stop thinking about the story. A dark-haired woman dressed in white with the power of a sorcerer saving them in the woods. He wasn't particularly superstitious, but the coincidence was too much to ignore. In the middle of the night he brought Stephan to stay with Mary and then rode out.

He headed towards the place where Yvainne had once lived with her family. It wasn't much anymore, just an old stone chimney and a few burnt timbers. Still, when he arrived he saw the small fire burning there, glittering in the snowy evening. Swallowing hard he had dismounted and limped over to the house.

A young woman with dark hair was sitting by the fire, stroking the head of a white mare. She was staring into the fire intently, as though trying to ascertain some answer from it. Paul felt his throat close up and he didn't dare go any further. When he finally managed to speak, it was all he could do to croak out;

"Yvainne."

The young woman looked up in surprise. As soon as she did he noticed that no, it wasn't Yvainne. Many years had passed but he remembered her clearly. Granted, this woman looked very much like Yvainne, but there were several differences. Her eyes were too dark, her features too delicate, so the next word he spoke he was sure was much truer;

"Veronica."

He blinked at her as she got up slowly. Her hands were fisted around the horse's reigns as though to steady herself. Carefully she said;

"Do I know you?"

He stared at her before sighing.

"No, you wouldn't remember me. I'm not very memorable, one of those faces you know. But you saved my son's life in the hills today," he said, limping closer to the fire, "My granddaughters as well."

"Very brave that son of yours," she replied, "But, how do you know what my name-?"

"Veronica Hunt, I doubt there's not one in Britain who hasn't heard of your exploits as Merlin's apprentice," he said, "But I…I knew your mother. I…I…"

She watched him with a curious expression. Suddenly feeling tired he threw his hands helplessly into the air.

"Paul," he said.

Her eyes widened.

"My God…"

Without another word she hurried forward and hugged the man. Hesitantly he hugged her back, somewhat shocked by the gesture. Her reserved nature on his approach had made him think that perhaps she had lost much of what he remembered of her as a child. Apparently she hadn't and the thought made him grin.

After a moment she pulled away.

"You have a son now?" she asked.

"Born eight months after you left," he said, "Stephan, my pride and joy."

"And those girls…are they-?" she started excitedly.

"They're Mary's," he said, his grin widening, "She was married about five years ago, and now she's pregnant again. She'll be so happy to see you."

Veronica hesitated. Paul frowned at this, seeing the girl shrink once more into her reserved mannerisms.

"I…I'm just visiting," she said, her own voice sounding uncertain.

He nodded sagely.

"Yes, I figured it would be something like that. But spend that time with us, not here out in the snow," he said, "You'll catch death of cold- ah but you're a sorceress. Well then, we'd just be very pleased to have your company."

Her hesitation disappeared in the face of his hopeful grin.

"I…I accept your invitation.

Veronica had come back to her old childhood home for one purpose; to burn the scrolls she had bought the day her family died in the market. There was no memorial to her family; she didn't have to go into town to know that. When she was old enough to know Merlin had told her what had happened to her family's bodies, so there were no graves either. She had decided that she needed to do something to commemorate them with the first complex spells she had learned.

There was one scroll that she had kept though. It pained her too much to get rid of them all; even to pay tribute to her long dead family. She had kept the one spell that she hadn't mastered, knowing that her mother wouldn't approve of waste; the fusion spell. Idly she had watched the rest burn, deep in thought.

She had thought that the flames would provide some sort of answer, some sort of release. They hadn't though, and just when she was getting ready to go Paul had arrived. Veronica had been reluctant to accept his invitation; she knew that she should be getting back to the Keep fairly soon. However, seeing as her problems hadn't even come close to being solved she had decided that it couldn't hurt to stay with the man who had saved her life as a girl.

True to Paul's word Mary had been ecstatic to see her. Her husband had been more wary, accepting her presence but not speaking much. Elizabeth and Lily had mostly kept their distance as well, too awed to go near their 'angel'. Stephan was much bolder, speaking to her occasionally about trivial matters and rolling his shoulder from time to time to show that it was fine.

Eventually Stephan's behavior emboldened Elizabeth and Lily until they too were actively speaking to her and urging her to go into town with them. The whispers and stares that followed her made her somewhat uncomfortable; word travelled quickly in the North. The children seemed oblivious to them though, and for their sake Veronica had to pretend to be as well.

The problem didn't last long though. Mary was soon confined to her bed because of her condition. Being the only one in miles who had any midwifery experience Veronica stayed by her side constantly. The child was due any day and she wasn't about to leave her old friend alone in such a situation.

So the children would go out with Hector to the market and to tend to the livestock. It was just the two of them quite often. On one such day Mary tentatively asked;

"So…are you married?"

Veronica laughed, thinking of the problems so prominent in her love life.

"No."

"Why not?" she asked, sounding confused, "If you don't mind me saying so you're twenty years old. That's a little old not to be married."

Veronica laughed again.

"When you say it that way it sounds so much better," she teased.

"Oh, but that's not how I meant it," Mary said, flustered.

"No, no," Veronica replied, "Things are just a little complicated for me. I'm around nobles so much of the time and they're not sure how to treat me. I'm not noble, but I'm technically a ward of Merlin's. Do they approach him for my hand? Do they dare go near him in the first place?"

Mary looked at her hesitantly.

"Well, do you want to be married?" she asked her, "I mean, you seem very independent and control this situation. Is it your personal choice?"

Veronica had just stared at her, trying to find a way to explain this to someone like Mary. Her friend's life was divided into three things; love, family, and death. It had nothing to do with politics or evil sorcerers. Things seemed so simple from Mary's point of view, and she wasn't sure how to let her know how hopelessly complicated they were for her.

Luckily Hector had come back in and she hadn't had to answer. In truth Mary's life with a loving husband and two children with a third on the way with all its simplicity looked very appealing to her. She doubted that as a sorceress she could have that though. The thought followed her to bed that night, Mary's question still unanswered.

_Veronica found herself standing in a house that resembled Mary's. It was a cottage somewhere in the woods, not very big. She found that she was standing by the fire, her arms folded across her chest. She was smiling to herself, as though she were in on a secret that she had just revealed._

_Arms circled her waist from behind her. She smiled and placed her hands over his, their simple wedding bands clinking together._

"_A few weeks along?" the man behind her murmured, "Are you sure?"_

"_Completely," she said, "You'll be a father soon."_

_Delighted laughter filled her ears and she was pulled closer. Turning around in his grasp she cupped his face with her hands. _

"_I love you Veronica," he murmured, "I love you so much."_

"_I love you too Balthazar."_

She awoke that night in a cold sweat, her breathing labored. Veronica tried to quiet herself, unwilling to wake anyone else up. Tears were threatening now, but she shoved them back. Her dream hadn't been detailed but it had been good, so very good. However, she was getting the sinking feeling that a future like that was not what fate had in store for her.

The next morning Hector and the girls once more went out. Veronica quietly took out her pocket Incantus and unfolded it before Mary, who watched with wide eyes.

"This book contains the entire history of magic," Veronica said, "It's always growing, always adding to itself."

"Why show it to me?" asked Mary, "I…I can't read you know."

"I know," Veronica said quietly, "I know. I just…what you asked yesterday…"

"I shouldn't have asked it," her ever-tactful childhood friend said.

"It doesn't matter if you should've; you did. The fact is that it's not that I don't want to be married," she said, finally getting the book to its appropriate size, "I do want to be, very much so. But I'm finding that I want to be with one man and one man alone, one who I doubt wants me back. I was starting to feel like I just couldn't handle that knowledge any longer."

"And that's why you came here?" asked Mary, her eyes still on the Incantus.

"One of many reasons," Veronica answered, flipping through the book until she found the appropriate page.

Gently she laid the book on a table where Mary could see the picture clearly. It portrayed Merlin's three apprentices, as they were at the beginning of the year when they had defeated an evil sorcerer in the west. Mary leaned over it and cocked her head. She cleared her throat before asking;

"Which one?"

Veronica's fingertips lingered on the picture of Balthazar for a few seconds before she withdrew it. Mary studied the picture intently for a few minutes. Finally she said;

"What makes you think he doesn't want you back?"

"Nothing really," answered Veronica truthfully, "It's the **possibility** that's scaring me. We work so close together, depend on each other for so much. If I tell him and get rejected, that'll ruin everything we've built over these years."

Mary continued her study of the picture for some more time. Suddenly her face contorted in pain.

"Veronica…I think the baby-"

"I'm on it," she said, shutting her Incantus and reaching for her bag of herbs.


	23. Chapter 23

_**A/N: **I just looked at the live preview for the first time and I realized that throughout the entire story not a single one of my line breaks has shown up. Some of the reviews make sense now, and I'd like to apologize for any headaches caused. _

"Damn!"

Balthazar swore as his arrow hit the outside of the target. The arrow's brothers were scattered around it, almost all of them in the outer circle and nowhere near the target. Angrily he tossed the bow to the ground and went forward to retrieve them. Each yank out of the target was harsher until one of the arrows snapped in his hands.

"Just one more thing to go wrong this week," he muttered.

Gathering up his unbroken arrows he went back to his starting position. He had been practicing archery since a young age and had enjoyed it greatly. Merlin had often encouraged him to continue, that his accuracy with his arrows was one of the main reasons that he was so good with plasma bolts.

Snorting to himself Balthazar nocked another arrow. He didn't dare cast a plasma bolt if this was what his archery was like that morning. He'd been somewhat off for weeks and this was the high, or rather low, point of it all. True he was frustrated, and that was odd. He only got frustrated with swords; archery had always been relaxing for him. Then again he had always considered himself much better at it than swordplay.

"_You hold it like this," he said._

_His arm moved the length of Veronica's. She looked at him questioningly and he suddenly realized that he was probably touching her too close. Still, if he didn't make his point before withdrawing it could seem awkward. So, fighting the heat that was coming to his face, he straightened her hand and adjusted her grip on the sword. As he did so he could feel her delicate hands, for once free of the gloves she wore constantly…_

Slowly Balthazar sighed and lowered his bow. He wasn't going to get anywhere like this and he knew it.

"A little off today are we?"

Perfect. Sighing in frustration Balthazar turned to face Letholdus. His brother was leaning up against a nearby tree on the outskirts of the clearing and grinning. In his hands he turned over the Blakeson family signet ring. His fingers had swollen with callus from sword practice so that it no longer fit and hence had to be worn as a necklace.

Balthazar also noticed that his brother didn't have any arrows, so he couldn't be coming there for any reason other than tormenting him.

"Oh, don't mind me," Letholdus said casually, "Just keep going."

Narrowing his eyes Balthazar readied another arrow and turned back to the targets. He was just pulling back on the arrow he heard his brother say;

"My presence shouldn't much matter. From what I hear you're quite used to an audience in the other apprentices, like Veronica."

This time the arrow didn't even land on the target, just went sailing far into the woods. Swearing again Balthazar decided not to go after it. Arrows might be expensive but he wasn't going to go after that one. He'd just have to buy new ones. Giving his brother an unfriendly look he readied another arrow.

"The way I hear it she watches you all the time."

The arrow sailed into the sky and Balthazar jumped out of the way as it came back down. Once it had he thrown down the bow and glared at his brother.

"What?" Letholdus asked innocently.

"You tell me what!" demanded Balthazar, "Why did you say that?"

"What did I say?"

"You know **what**!"

"I was just making conversation," Letholdus said as Balthazar marched right up to him.

"Well why do you keep mentioning Veronica then?" he snapped.

Letholdus looked him up and down, smiling coolly.

"Why, don't you want me to mention her?"

Irritated Balthazar turned on his heel and snatched up the arrows and bow.

"Leaving so soon?" asked Letholdus.

"Yes," Balthazar replied shortly, "I'm going as far as I can to get away from irritating older brothers. Why the hell are you even here?"

The grin vanished off of Letholdus' face.

"Truth be told Merlin asked me to come down," he said, "I've been busy until now, but he said that there was something…off about you ever since Veronica left. Something odd about that Horvath too…but he said you were worse."

"Did he say that it was probably just an effect of our magic being thrown out of balance?" growled Balthazar, "Happens all the time when Maxim or I leave."

"Yeah, he did," Letholdus said carefully, "But he said that it shouldn't be affecting you **this **much."

"I'm fine," Balthazar said.

"Obviously you're not. You'd generally put up with me for longer."

"Well maybe I'm just sick of having to put up with you in the first place!" Balthazar snarled, moving to head out of the clearing.

Letholdus stepped in front of him to block him. All vestiges of joking were gone now, and in fact he looked a little angry.

"The sooner you admit you're head over heels for that girl the happier we'll all be!" he snapped.

Balthazar dropped the bow and arrows he was carrying. Letholdus looked a little shocked at his words, and even more so at his brother's expression.

"You don't know what you're talking about," whispered Balthazar.

"Obviously I do," Letholdus replied, raising his eyebrows.

Sighing Balthazar sunk to the ground. Letholdus followed him.

"I can't explain," he said.

"Try," Letholdus said.

Running his hands through his hair Balthazar said;

"I don't even know if she's coming back."

"She is," Letholdus said bluntly.

"How would you know?" asked Balthazar bitterly.

"You're all awful liars, and I'll bet she said she was coming back."

Balthazar sighed and nodded.

"So," Letholdus said, "what's the problem here? And tell me the **real **problem this time because I'm getting the feeling this has been going on for quite some time."

He watched his brother struggle for the words.

"She's beautiful."

"Um…" Letholdus said, "Generally that's not considered a problem-"

"It's not a problem," Balthazar interrupted, rolling his eyes, "But she…she's…she's **beautiful**."

"Ah, I get it now," Letholdus said sagely, "Classic inferiority thing. Happened to me too. You'll get over it soon enough."

He looked at his brother doubtfully. His brother was prejudiced and perhaps wasn't considering the fact that Veronica was quite out of Balthazar's league. Nonetheless he decided to move on to the next biggest problem.

"I…I don't know how I'm supposed to go about…well… you know."

Letholdus laughed. Balthazar glared at him, but that just made him laugh even more.

"That's all?" he said, "Well, I think I can help with that."

A grin came onto Letholdus' face that made Balthazar's insides twist with fear. Leaning in conspiratorially he whispered;

"How much do you know about poetry?

.

.

.

In the end Mary's delivery had been an easy one. It had been relatively short so it was only the winter's early evenings that made it dark outside when the boy entered the world. Hector had practically burst with pride at the child's birth and had to restrain himself from running out into the town and shouting the news.

Seeing the joy that this family had Veronica started to wonder what her life would've been like if she'd stayed in Scarborough. For a moment she became wistful, until she realized that it meant she probably would've ended up wed to one of the local boys. Her eyes shut themselves against that possibility, although not against musings of a normal life.

On the third day after his birth the boy was christened William Ashdown. Mary had insisted that Veronica be godmother, although she had tried to reject the responsibility. She had argued that she would be leaving soon, and that she wouldn't be around the boy as he grew. Her old friend had proved to be more stubborn than her in the end, and she had relented and agreed to the position.

It was on that day that the two of them found themselves alone in the house again. Mary was leaning back in her bed, tired from her trip to the local chapel. Hector was holding the boy in his arms outside, showing William off to his sisters, cousin, grandfather, and anyone else who happened to stop by.

Veronica was busy making herbal tea for Mary. Although the birth had been easy healing substances were still necessary to prevent infection. From her position Mary watched her quietly before leaning back into her pillows.

"You'll be leaving soon I suspect."

"Yes," Veronica answered, "I think I've stayed longer than anyone, myself included, expected me to already. It's nearly spring and I'm sure Master will be worried about me."

She felt her friend's eyes on her.

"Go for it."

"Pardon?" asked Veronica.

"That man, that…Ba…Balthazar," she said, obviously straining her memory.

Veronica opened her mouth to protest but Mary put her hand up.

"I'm not as smart as you," she said, "But it seems to me that you'll just go on regretting this if you don't do it. If you ignore what you're feeling now, if you don't ever let him know, then you'll have given it all up and lost whatever chance you have."

Turning her head Mary smiled at her.

"I'm not saying rush up to him and declare your love, but give him some hints," she said, "Test the waters a little and find out just how he feels about you. Don't go on possibilities alone and don't expect everything to just fall into place. You're more independent in this than probably any woman of our age, so make a move yourself."

The encouragement in her voice, getting everything out in the open, was making her feel much better. At the same time though, she kept feeling her old doubts surfacing.  
"It's not that easy-" she started.

"It's not that hard either," Mary said with a wan smile, "Don't give up before you've started Veronica."

She repeated those words when Veronica was saddling up to leave Scarborough. The goodbyes were long, drawn-out affairs that were painful from the time that she had spent with them. However, she had made up her mind now, and resolutely started the long journey back to Camelot.


	24. Chapter 24

Veronica headed down towards the library. She had missed a good deal during her long sojourn, and was now hurrying to catch up. Horvath had been helping her, declaring that it was only fair since she had always helped him. Even so extra hours were spent with her Incantus, trying to understand how to do this or that.

However, many was the time that she felt her mind wandering. Just because she had resolved to try something about her situation didn't mean that she knew what it was that she wanted to try. Shaking her head she walked into the library which was blessedly empty. She was just about to settle down at one of the desks when she noticed something rather unusual; a flower.

Cautiously she picked up the flower that was resting on one of the desks. It was a daffodil, if she was correct. There were few flowers that bloomed this early in spring, and daffodils were one of them. Frowning she turned it over in her hands for a minute before going to put it back on the table. It was then that she noticed the piece of parchment under it.

Her name had been written at the top of the parchment in what a generous critic could call fancy script. There were a few ink blots staining it, as well as some parts where words had very obviously been crossed out. Curious, and because it did have her name on it after all, she read on.

_The divinity of the rosy fingered mother of morning light,_

_would be revoked if she but saw the hands that grace this leaf._

_And if I could but feel thy touch or fall within thy sight,_

'_twould be the ending of my eternal strife. _

Veronica shrugged a little. It wasn't good, but it wasn't exactly bad either. However, it seemed as though the writer had struggled with each and every syllable. None of it seemed natural. However, she was touched by one thing; nowhere were her skin, hair, or even her eyes mentioned. Whoever the author was they had gone for a touch of originality.

She looked down at the fingers that were currently holding the piece of paper. Veronica wondered if they had noticed the care she put into her hands and decided to mention them because of that, or because they genuinely admired them. It was kind of them. Shrugging again she started looking for a name somewhere on the paper, deciding that whoever did this one was going to be very **politely **turned down.

It didn't take long for her to figure out that there wasn't any name on it. Frowning again she looked over the piece of parchment. Now that she thought about it, it was odd that it had been left in the library. Most of the poetry she was given was by messenger, once or twice with accompanying minstrels, which had been probably the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to her.

Giving the poem another examination she noticed several other odd things about it. For one thing it was sloppy. It looked more like a draft than an actual poem and as though it had been left there by accident with the flower. Many lines were crossed out. Straining her eyes she could make out 'Obviously I'm not good at this' and similar phrases that were written in frustration. The writer had been making some attempts to make his handwriting neater, but sometimes his large loopy hand…showed…through…

Feeling weak Veronica near sank into the nearest chair. It couldn't be; it really couldn't be. Biting her lip she read the words over and scrutinized the handwriting. There was no doubt about it, it was Balthazar's. Still, she looked on. As she did a particular phrase that had been crossed out caught her eye;

_ "Quite simply I love you."_

Her teeth cut into her lip and she took a deep breath in. Mary had been right, and Veronica had never been so completely happy to be wrong. She put the poem down on the desk and steepled her fingers around her face. There was no way to articulate the way she was feeling, she wanted to run down and find him, to tell him and hold him and-

She stopped herself. Obviously she couldn't do that. There was a protocol she had to observe, had to think this out. It was quite possible that he was contemplating…marriage, and since he wouldn't take something like this lightly he probably was, then she couldn't just go and tell him that. It wasn't for her to do the proposing then and she could very likely embarrass him to death if she wasn't careful. She started to laugh then. **Marriage**. Suddenly it sounded quiet wonderful.

Calming down she leaned back in her chair. Veronica thought hard for a minute before grinning. Getting up she snatched both the poem and the flower from the desk. The daffodil she carefully tucked behind her ear and the poem she folded up and slipped inside her sleeve. She had work to do.

.

.

.

"Something wrong?"

Balthazar lifted his head from the oak of the table fractionally. He had essentially thrown himself on the table, one hand forlornly holding a piece of clean parchment with elegant handwriting on it. Horvath was looking at him with concern, one hand resting on his sword. Moaning Balthazar let his head fall back on the table with a solid 'thump'.

"I'll take that as a yes," Horvath said, drawing up a chair, "So, what's going on? What happened?"

For a minute Balthazar contemplated just not saying anything and moaning some more. Instead he settled for a half-truth;

"There's this girl…"

Horvath looked at him, surprised.

"And here I was, thinking that you just didn't care," he said, "But lo and behold. So, who is she? Come on."

"Not telling," Balthazar said, his voice slightly muffled from the wood.

"Oh, you can tell me."

"No I can't."

"Yes you can."

"No I can't," mumbled Balthazar irritably as he pushed himself into a sitting position, "Look, do you want to know what's wrong or do you just want to ask questions with no answer?"

"Something's wrong?" asked Horvath, "I thought it was just lovesickness. I know I don't look it, but I've felt that."

"Love and lust aren't the same thing," Balthazar said harshly.

Horvath shrugged;

"Not always. But there's a girl for me too that…" Horvath's voice trailed off, "Never mind. Now I know why you don't want to tell; I bet you've got your reasons. Now, what's the trouble?"

"Letholdus told me I should try to court her properly," answered Balthazar, "And I want to. So I tried writing some of that poetry stuff-"

Horvath coughed quickly to hide a chuckle. Balthazar shot him a glare and rested his forehead on his hand.

"So I wrote out a draft," he said, "And then I did a second draft and brought that to Letholdus. We worked on it all afternoon to make it just right."

"How'd it go?"

He passed him the piece of parchment. Horvath read in silence for a few minutes, his eyebrows raising ever higher.

"Um, huh. Balthazar?" he said, "That's some uh, nice imagery with the Greek goddess but…her **hands**?"

"You sound like my brother now," Balthazar snapped, "But yeah, her **hands**."

"Not the hair or the skin?" asked Horvath, "They like it when you say stuff about those. The eyes are surefire."

"I was trying to…be original I guess…say something heartfelt," Balthazar said, waving his hands hopelessly, "It's just she…she…she's got…and I…forget it."

He saw his friend look over the final draft again.

"It's not that bad, and certainly pretty good for a first try," said Horvath, "So what's the problem?"

Balthazar let his head slide back down onto the desk.

"The first draft got sent by mistake," he mumbled, telling at least a version of the truth; although it made it sound less like it was his fault.

From the sharp intake of breath Horvath did Balthazar knew that this was even worse than he'd thought originally.

"Was it, uh-?"

"Worse than that?" asked Balthazar bitterly, "Yeah. And I wrote things in the margin."

"….like?"

"'Obviously I'm not good at this', and 'I can't write for shit'," Balthazar moaned.

There was a pause.

"I was frustrated!" snapped Balthazar defensively.

"I can see that. Did you, uh, sign it?" he asked.

"No," Balthazar said glumly, "But what if she figures out it's me?"

"She probably won't."

"She's gonna burn it…" he moaned.

"But she doesn't know it's you, so it doesn't matter."

His friend put a conciliatory hand on his shoulder. Balthazar got the feeling that he would've said more, but the door opened again. From the light steps Balthazar knew that it was Veronica and he felt his body tense up.

"Don't worry. It's just Veronica," Horvath said.

If only he knew. Turning around to Veronica Horvath grinned.

"He's feeling a little down. Family trouble."

How good of Horvath to lie for him.

"I see," she said.

A chair scraped and he heard Horvath get up.

"I've got to get going, and don't worry about it Balthazar."

When Horvath's footfalls had retreated Balthazar forced himself to sit up. It wouldn't do for her to see him like this. To his surprise he saw that she had tucked the daffodil into her hair. She was humming a little to herself. He watched as she moved, her back to him, through the shelves and picked up a book.

"The oddest thing happened today," she said nonchalantly, "I got this poem."

His blood froze. Balthazar managed a dry chuckle.

"That's uh, not so unusual for you."

"No, no it isn't," she agreed. "But this one was different. It was unsigned for one, more's the pity."

An odd feeling gripped his stomach and Balthazar chose his next words cautiously.

"Ah, wanna nip this one in the bud then?" he said in a careless and casual tone.

"No," she said, shutting her book thoughtfully, "I think I'll encourage him. I mean, it wasn't very good. But it was sweet and…"

She looked down at the hands that were holding the book.

"Everyone's always looking at my face," she said, "They're always talking about how beautiful I am, and all these veiled references about how much they'd like to…you know. It'd be a lie to say that I don't enjoy the attention, but…well, like I said, this one's different. I like my hands…and…"

Her voice faltered.

"I'm boring you," she said, putting the book back. "I'm sorry."

"No, no," he said, "It's all very interesting."

Veronica turned and flashed that brilliant smile at him.

"Now you're just joking."

"I'm being honest," he said, suddenly feeling very light and warm.

She smiled even wider.

"No," she insisted, "I don't think you are."

For a brief moment the thought 'Oh God she knows' flashed through his head. Pure panic flooded him and took away the light and warm feeling that had so newly appeared. Then she laughed and he had to laugh too. He was getting encouraged; even if she didn't know that it was him she was encouraging. Balthazar was lucky, very lucky indeed.

.

.

.

Miles away Morgana added a few drops of blood into a cauldron. It was no more than three, she was very careful with the amount she used, as always. As soon as it splashed inside the concoction hissed and seethed. She smiled to herself. It wouldn't take much more time for it to be ready.

Pleased with herself she looked at Mordred who was watching her emotionlessly. He had started to stroke the thin white line that stretched from his ear to his chin, as he often did when he was thinking. Morgana had often noted the vanity her son portrayed, but he had an odd sort of obsession with the scar upon his face. Once, while doing this, she'd asked him what he was thinking of. His reply had been, with a smile that made even Morgana wish she were elsewhere;

"Just what I'm going to do to her when the time comes. Make her suffer…"

He had elaborated on his plan, and she had merely raised her eyebrow. She had decided to leave it at that. His unhealthy habit of thinking about this often had her wondering if it was some sort of weakness. In the end she had simply dismissed it as a vendetta, one of many that the boy had. The time to fulfill them was coming soon, not much longer now.

"What I don't understand is why you'll be wasting this on trapped sorcerers who have failed you in the past," Mordred said, still stroking his scar.

"Soldiers are always good Mordred. You'll do well to remember that," she said, "You recruit the mortals and I'll get ones of our kind. Have you picked out the final three yet?"

"Oh…yes…yes I have."

"I trust they fulfill the requirements? Innocence? Family? Enemies?"

"Mother, Mother, Mother," Mordred said, taking his hand off the scar and winking at her, "When have I ever given faulty specimens?"

She sniffed the potion that she had been working on for the last five years experimentally.

"Yes, it shouldn't be long now," she said.

"I'm beginning to wonder what 'it shouldn't be long now' means to you these days," he said, "You've been saying not long since I was a boy."

"Oh, I mean it this time," she cackled unpleasantly, "Within the year we'll be making our first moves. Just you watch."


	25. Chapter 25

The next month passed in what could be called bliss for Veronica. After his first botched attempt at poetry Balthazar had tried a different approach. Pages were meticulously, and extremely neatly, copied from books and placed with flowers in places she would find them. Well, sometimes it was flowers. Other times it was a ribbon or some sort of sweetmeat wrapped in parchment.

Her favorite was a simple silver necklace that he had put out for her. It was nothing fancy, just a thin chain that fit loosely around her throat. It was as though he had tried to get something that she'd like but to not look like he was flinging expensive gifts at her. Veronica took to wearing it constantly.

Overall it was, to be put quite simply, very sweet. She caught him looking at her whenever she pulled her hair back with a ribbon or put a flower in her hair. It was an anxious, hopeful sort of look and she reveled in it. However, the looks that Merlin was giving her were of a different sort. Horvath was looking at her oddly too, sometimes through narrowed eyes.

It made her somewhat embarrassed to see their obvious disapproval. From their expressions she could tell that she was making something of a fool of herself. However, she couldn't help it. Not only that, but she enjoyed giving Balthazar some form of obvious encouragement.

Part of her wondered how long it would take Balthazar to realize that she knew it was him though. Although it would be wrong to say she wasn't enjoying every moment of the courtship, she was waiting for him to declare himself. Towards the end of the month though, she decided that she was going to have to take matters into her own hands and tell him she knew.

On May Day she dressed carefully, making sure to put her favorite silver earrings in correctly. Veronica rehearsed her words carefully as well, as well as her timing. She had one shot to get this right and she wasn't about to waste it. The occasion was perfect, seeing as the normal May Day celebrations were already considered a day for lovers.

Unsuccessfully she tried to keep her jitters down as they entered the clearing that had been decorated for the ball. No less than a dozen times Horvath and Balthazar had asked her if something was wrong and she had been quick to insist that it wasn't. To rid herself of their suspicions she had to duck out of their company, at least for the time being. She considered complaining of a headache, but already Queen Guinevere had used that as an excuse and left earlier. Veronica doubted that it would work twice.

Luckily Queen Morgause was there on yet another diplomatic trip with her husband. She visited almost as often as King Arthur visited their kingdom. Ever since Lot's father had died there had existed a great friendship between the two kingdoms, and Veronica found herself being very thankful for that. However, Morgause noticed her jitters as well.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Everyone keeps saying that," Veronica said, speaking fast, "I don't know what they're talking about."

Morgause raised an eyebrow.

"Who is he?"

"Pardon?" Veronica asked.

"Oh, don't give me that," Morgause said, smiling secretly at her, "I've been there and so have two of my sons. Now that Agravaine's married Lidia he talks of nothing else. I'm surprised you think that I don't recognize that tone by now. Now who is he?"

Veronica twisted her hands together and looked down.

"I can't say," she said, "He hasn't declared himself yet…"

"But you know who he is," Morgause said, putting her hand on Veronica's shoulder, "Otherwise you wouldn't be quite so excited I think. Now, come now, what's his name?"

Looking up Veronica cast a furtive glance around the clearing. Horvath and Balthazar were absorbed in a conversation with Gareth. Due to the fact that Letholdus had been feeling somewhat sick he hadn't come that night, and nor had Catherine since she was so busy with Albin these days. In other words; Balthazar was free because he wouldn't need to dodge him like he normally did at these functions.

She frowned as she thought about that. Come to think of it, she had seen his brother around the Keep more often. Veronica knew she would have to think of that later though. Morgause was looking at her with some impatience now. Clearing her throat Veronica looked back up at the older woman.

"Perhaps we could get out of the crowds?" she asked, "There are so many people here."

Winking slyly at her Morgause led her out into a secluded corner of the clearing. As she did Veronica saw a lock of gray hair peek beneath her veil. Only then did Veronica see the lines gathering at the corners of the woman's eyes. The knowledge that the dazzlingly beautiful and youthful Queen who had once given her dresses was now an old woman hit her hard.

She wasn't that old really, but the knowledge that Morgause was now a grandmother was strange. Veronica had never really thought of it before and quite frankly it made her feel odd. Over eleven years had passed since she had first met this woman and for the first time it felt like eleven years.

"Now what were you saying?" asked Morgause cheerfully.

Shaking her head to clear it Veronica focused on the situation at hand. She cleared her throat once before murmuring;

"Balthazar. It…It's Balthazar."

Morgause blinked at her. Veronica smiled sheepishly.

"Really…that's um…interesting," Morgause said slowly.

Feeling her heart fall Veronica asked;

"You…don't approve?"

"No, no, of course I do," said Morgause quickly, "No, I'm just surprised. You've never given so much as a…you're just…very good at keeping a secret."

"I've been trying to give him hints," she said, looking at the silver necklace, "But I'm getting tired of waiting for him to declare himself."

"Men can be awfully stubborn-" started Morgause.

A scream cut her off. Both women turned simultaneously to see a bright fire flare in the distance. Almost immediately two knights were half-supporting, half-dragging Mordred into the clearing. Veronica recognized the teleportation magic that was used to bring them there, as well as two other figures. She looked at Mordred, who was bleeding from the temple and smiling in a dazed way.

Another knight was dragging Guinevere into view, the identity of the other two figures revealed. She was in her night shift, but still seemed to retain a good deal of dignity. Without another word Morgause hurried forward, drawing level with Lot and Arthur who were already coming up to meet the small party. Lot looked confused, but Arthur looked downright furious.

"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded of Mordred.

Mordred smiled even broader.

"I went to inquire if the Queen was feeling better," he said simply, "But I wasn't the only one in the Queen's bedchamber."

He looked over at Guinevere and nodded.

"Sir Lancelot was there as well."

There was a ripple of conversation. Veronica felt rather than saw Horvath and Balthazar come up beside her. Merlin stepped forward quickly, pushing several people out of the way. Veronica caught him glare over at Morgana, who was watching the scene with a surreal amount of apathy.

"These…accusations…" Arthur said slowly, one hand fisted by his side, "Are best saved for morning…"

"They're not accusations," snapped Mordred, shaking off the help of his companions, "I have three witnesses. Well, three **surviving** witnesses."

"Surviving?" asked Arthur, his eyes darting around.

"When we found them," said Mordred calmly, "there was a scuffle, and he killed the others. After that he ran off with several of his fellow knights."

Another ripple of shocked whispers washed throughout the crowd. Merlin came forward.

"The King is right, this shall have to wait until the morning," he said.

"He shouldn't wait too long," Mordred said, "I believe the fire is spreading."

"How was there a fire!" demanded Arthur.

Mordred shrugged carelessly.

"I had to defend myself, and I didn't bring a sword. Fire's very easy magic."

Looking like he was barely able to control himself Arthur said;

"Sir Percival and Bedivere, bring the Queen to the outer keep and confine her to her chambers. Lord Merlin, with me."

With a curt nod Merlin gestured at his apprentices.

"Attend to the fire."

The two male apprentices quickly dashed off. Veronica went to join them before Merlin put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Not this time. I'm going to need you with me," he said, "I need you to help with the Lothainese nobles."

Veronica cast one longing look after Balthazar and Horvath.

"Veronica," Merlin said sharply.

Biting her lip she nodded and fell into step behind him.

.

.

.

"He set it on fire on purpose," growled Horvath.

Balthazar shrugged at him, his stride lengthening.

"Yes, he said he did."

"No," Horvath insisted, "he's trying to cover something up."

"Why would he need to cover anything up?" asked Balthazar impatiently.

"I don't know, but I don't trust that bastard after what he did to Veronica."

"Neither do I," agreed Balthazar, "But we can speculate on that later. Right now we need to concentrate on the fire, okay?"

Horvath nodded and not another word was said until they reached the quarter of the castle where the fire raged. The two of them quickly placed containment spells around it, but the magical fire was powerful. It would take some time to extinguish entirely, and some of the spells had to be cast from within.

Placing a shield around himself Balthazar went in with Horvath close on his heels. He moved around inside, setting up several more containment spells to starve the fire of oxygen. Balthazar worked methodically and quickly with Horvath close behind. The fire had been burning for a long time though, and it had already started to destroy the structure of the building.

"This place is going to go down," Horvath said, "There's no saving this quarter. The others will be fine from the other spells, but we need to get out of here."

Balthazar looked around. Horvath was right; the building was going to go down. There was just too much damage for them to fix. He motioned to Horvath that he was going to leave. He was walking past one room when a sixth sense told him to investigate. Knowing enough by now to trust his instincts, he ducked inside.

The heat was intense in there, but Balthazar felt like his veins were flooded with ice and pain. The shield around him dropped and he sank to his knees. There was a splashing noise as he sank into the thick, dark, liquid that drenched the floor. Soon he fell forward, his outspread hands the only thing that kept him from sinking face down into it.

"Balthazar?" called Horvath as he came, "What are you doing? We need to-oh God."

The bodies of Letholdus, Catherine, and Albin were scattered around the room. The fire blazed around them and the smell of burning flesh pierced the room. Their throats had been slit and he could see cuts on Letholdus' arms where he had struggled. Unlike the others he had been stabbed several times before the final blow was delivered.

Tentatively Balthazar reached over to his brother's body. Letholdus' eyes were wide, staring, and unseeing. The family signet ring was hanging on a thread around his neck. Many times Letholdus had mentioned it in passing, something that he had been bequeathed from his father and insisted that Balthazar would inherit. As if in a dream Balthazar picked it up and turned it over in his hand.

The metal was white-hot in his hand and a large blister was rapidly forming. He watched it do so in total apathy. Fire crackled around them and he was starting to feel fire lick his arms through the cotton of his shirt. Swallowing hard Horvath leaned over and whispered to Balthazar;

"We've got to get out of here."

Numbly Balthazar shook his head.

"He did this," Balthazar murmured, "He hated him. He did this. He did this, that bastard, and we can't…we can't…we can't do a damned thing…not with the Queen…he did this and then he walked away…"

Horvath looked with growing horror at the fire that his friend was allowing to burn him.

"We've got to get out of here!" Horvath insisted.

Once more Balthazar shook his head, dully looking at the bodies of his family. It felt like he couldn't move, as though it was impossible for him to move. There wasn't a thought in his head except that he needed to stay put. Horvath however, was looking around at the rapidly declining state of the building. Taking a deep breath he grabbed him under the arms and started to drag him out.

It was then that Balthazar found he could move. Frantically he struggled against the restraining arms of his friend, inadvertently putting out the flames that had sprung up on his arms. Horvath held fast onto him though, and with great difficulty dragged him out of the room. Soon after they got out of the quarters they collapsed. An odd screaming filled the air, and Balthazar was chillingly aware that he was making that inhuman sound.

"It's going to be fine, It's going to be fine," Horvath repeated over and over, "It's going to be fine, it's going to be fine…"

Balthazar wouldn't stop screaming though. It was then that Horvath noticed the extent of the burns that covered his fellow apprentice. He was scared now. He didn't have the power to heal him, not after all they had expended in the fire. Muttering under his breath he quietly put his friend to sleep. Casting one last look at the now ruined quarters Horvath started his long task of dragging Balthazar back to Merlin.


	26. Chapter 26

"What's going on?" Veronica yelled as she ran down the stairs.

Merlin looked up and for the first time Veronica realized that she was in the men's quarters. Ignoring the feeling that she shouldn't be there she took in the scene. Balthazar lay on his bed, unconscious. His jacket and shirt had been removed. Horvath stood beside him, his face stained with soot. The smell of smoke permeated the room, possibly coming from the jacket that had been discarded into the corner.

"I've healed his wounds," Merlin said calmly, "It should take him a little longer to wake up though."

"How was he wounded?" asked Veronica, looking between the two men, "You just had to do some containment spells!"

"He…he let his shields drop," Horvath said, "I had to drag him out myself."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Veronica.

"We…we found Letholdus," Horvath said, his hand tightening into a fist, "And Catherine, and Albin. They…they'd been murdered."

Veronica felt the color drain out of her face.

"What?" she asked faintly.

"Mordred did it," Horvath said furiously, "I know he did. So does Balthazar."

"Can you back it up?" snapped Merlin.

"No, but we've got to do something," Horvath said irritably, "Balthazar…he kept muttering how we can't do anything, but we've got to-"

"He's quite right," Merlin said, "I'm surprised that he could see it in his condition and you, who are normally so sensitive to these things and in full possession of your wits, cannot. Things are already bad enough without this complication."

"The Blakesons' murders are a **complication**?" demanded Horvath furiously.

"Mordred is toying with us!" roared Merlin, pounding his fist into the wall, "He is trying destroy the very foundations of the kingdom, and he knows that to do that he needs to break us first. Him and that damned mother of his!"

He breathed in heavily. Quietly Veronica moved next to Balthazar and touched his face gently with her fingertips.

"We have no proof," Merlin said quietly, "If we accuse them now it will look as though we're trying to take attention away from the Queen."

There was a deep and pregnant silence.

"What are we going to do then?" asked Horvath.

"Think," Merlin snapped, "Over the next few days things are going to get much, much worse. Four witnesses means death for both Guinevere and the King's sanity."

Rubbing his temples Merlin turned away.

"I need to get back to the castle," he muttered, "Horvath, come with me. I need your political sense with me now."

Clenching his hand into a fist Horvath gestured to Balthazar and said;

"We can't leave him alone."

"I'm still here," Veronica said, drawing herself up, "You two go. I'll take care of him."

Merlin looked at her gratefully before grabbing Horvath by the shoulder and pulling him along. Veronica watched him close the door behind him. Calmly she pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. Balthazar was still unconscious, and Merlin had seen to it that his wounds were no longer life threatening. However, she could see that the flames were going to leave scars on his arms and shoulders for the rest of his life.

She took a deep breath in. Perhaps it would be better if he didn't wake up any time soon. It wasn't going to be easy for him when he did. Veronica knew all too well what he was feeling, why someone else had had to remove him from the scene. She would've given almost anything for the man she loved not to have had to experience what she had ten years ago.

Veronica sighed again. As she did she noticed that his hand was clenched tightly around something. Very gently she started to pry his fingers apart. Balthazar shuffled in his sleep and Veronica froze. When he settled again she resumed her task. Finally she separated his fingers to reveal a silver ring in a bed of a festering blister.

Gasping she withdrew her hand. Calming down a little she removed the ring and started to heal the blister. Quite suddenly Balthazar's hand tightened around hers. The gesture was so sudden that she nearly screamed, but managed to restrain herself. Balthazar's eyes opened, and for a minute she saw incomprehension. Then his eyes became wild and he tried to get up.

Placing a hand on his chest Veronica started to push him back down.

"Shhhh," she said, "You're safe. Rest."

Reluctantly he allowed her to push him back down. She put the ring back into his now healed hand and closed his fingers over it. Balthazar stared at his hand for a minute before whispering;

"They're gone."

"I know," Veronica murmured.

"They'd just been left there…"

"I know."

"They…I could smell it," he said, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, "Their skin was burning, it was…it was…"

"I know."

"They were my family," he said, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, "He was my brother and Catherine was a sister…Albin was so damn young…"

"I know."

Balthazar opened his eyes.

"I…I can't…they…" he pleaded desperately.

Looking at him sadly Veronica tightened her grip around his hand. She had to let him understand, understand that she had been there, she had felt exactly what he was feeling. However, there was the only thing she could say that would adequately convey that. Veronica just hoped that Balthazar understood.

"I know," she said, more slowly now.

He blinked at her, the tears freely pouring down his cheeks. Biting down on her lip Veronica moved her free hand to the side of his face.

"I know," she repeated quietly.

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.

.

Horvath sighed and rubbed his temples. Four days had passed since the death of Balthazar's family. Events were now moving quickly, just as Merlin had predicted. King Laertes in the south was standing up for his sister, proclaiming that the evidence was false and a blatant attempt for Arthur to procure a new wife. He was threatening war now, and this had many nobles anxious to start the trial.

Arthur and Merlin had been stalling the proceedings for Guinevere's trial, but despite their best attempts the trial would begin the next day. For some reason Morgana had called Merlin into a meeting, and Merlin had warily had his apprentices accompany him to the meeting hall of his Keep.

The doors opened at the end of the hall. Horvath turned, expecting to see Veronica and Merlin. Instead Morgana walked in. Horvath made a quick expression of distaste before turning away.

"Aren't we ungallant today," Morgana observed.

"Lady Morgana," Horvath said stiffly, "I have nothing to say to you."

"Hm, what an angry young man," she said in the same tone of dryness she had used earlier, "I do wonder what I have done to arouse such ire."

"A couple of murders sound familiar you disgusting bitch?" he snarled before he could stop himself.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her smile.

"Why, of course not," she replied, "Why must you hate me such? We're really rather alike."

"I doubt that," snarled Horvath, spinning around.

She cocked her head, an almost sweet expression on her face.

"Doesn't it disgust you the way Arthur is ruining this kingdom?" she asked, "All the peasants elevated to high stations? Magic no longer given the place it deserves. Merlin is the only magical advisor when we are the ones who should be ruling. You see it when those other, weaker apprentices don't, or perhaps they're just satisfied to remain on the sidelines. You though, you know that you belong in the spotlight. But people tend to remember Letholdus' brother and the beautiful one more than they remember you. Rather unfair, don't you think?"

Horvath recoiled from her as though he'd been slapped.

"You deserve more," she said, "You know you do, and you want more. It was much the same with me. Do you suppose it's fun giving precedence to my baby sister every damn day? We both want everything that comes your way."

Morgana's smile broadened as Horvath looked at her in horror. How did she know he thought like that? Some of him urged him to tell her that he did, to continue the conversation in the way that she was obviously inviting him to. Irritation filled him though; no one should know that he thought that about the people around him, especially not about his fellow apprentices. Instead he straightened and spoke coldly to her.

"However you know this," he said, "it matters not. Nor does it matter what I think. I'd never side with you-"

"-against Merlin and his other pets," she finished for him, still smiling, "We'll see, we'll see."

Narrowing his eyes Horvath opened his mouth to say something biting. Instead the doors opened again and Veronica and Merlin came in. Merlin glared at Morgana, who fixed him with that strange smile again. Steadfastly ignoring Morgana Veronica came and stood beside her fellow apprentice.

"Is Balthazar coming?" asked Horvath quietly.

Veronica shook her head. She had a pained expression and Horvath put his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. Balthazar had lain on his bed for the past three days, saying little and eating even less. Veronica had been his constant companion, and Horvath knew that his condition must be making her remember the loss of her own family.

Her eyes flickered down to his hand on her shoulder, and then to Horvath's face. She blinked and moved her shoulder away a little. Horvath immediately removed his hand. He looked at her in surprise, and she bit her lip. Suddenly he realized that the contact must have been making her uncomfortable. Quickly he ducked his head in apology, although it hurt to have to do that, and she nodded to acknowledge it.

"What do you want here Lady Morgana?" asked Merlin.

"No one is being very nice to me today," she said, folding her arms, "And here I am with a solution to all your problems."

Merlin's eyes narrowed.

"What if Mordred was unable to testify tomorrow, him and his friends?" she said, "It's so easy to get sick, and if they get sick, then they could forget everything in their delirium. Such awful things."

"And if…they were to become ill," Merlin said slowly, "What would their reward be?"

Morgana smiled.

"I want Mordred acknowledged as Arthur's heir," she said, tilting her chin upwards.

Horvath stared at her, astonished. Veronica had a similar look on her face, but she remained silent. After a few seconds Horvath felt a snort escape from his lips. Morgana glared at him, but he said;

"Um, as the son of a Duchess of Lothain, and as a mere Count, he has absolutely **no **chance of becoming King of England," he said, "He has no connections to the crown; I think I've got a better chance than him and my chances are nil."

Horvath laughed loudly. He stopped when he realized that Veronica was just smiling at his joke and Merlin was looking grave.

"Yes," Morgana said tightly, "as Count his chances are rather slender. But as the son of the King of England he has a good deal of a claim."

Eyes widening Horvath exchanged a quick look with Veronica.

"Oh, did he not tell you?" laughed Morgana, pointing to Merlin, "Did he not tell you the true father of my darling boy?"

"You'd be excommunicated if you tried to play that card," Merlin snarled, "No one would follow you then."

"Just let Arthur acknowledge me as his sister and Mordred as his nephew then."

"But…" Veronica said, "you just said that Arthur was Mordred's father…"

The silence that followed her words were more poignant than anything anyone could've said. Veronica looked sick and Horvath felt somewhat nauseous.

"He really didn't tell you," tsked Morgana, "Never wondered why hostilities ceased between Lothain, Orkney, and England around the same time Lot married my sister? That was when she found out. I, on the other hand, put the knowledge to good use. You see, the two of us had the same mother, so I'm Arthur's sister **and **the mother of his child."

"And the seducer of a drunk nineteen-year-old who had no clue who you were," Merlin said, "You must be very proud of yourself, you who did that knowingly."

"It doesn't matter now," she said, "He'll have to capitulate or watch hiswife burn for her infidelities."

"I'll stop it," Merlin said, "I'll always stop you, everything you've done in your life, everything you've assisted with. I'll see you fall."

She leaned in and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"You forget yourself Merlin," she said, "You forget that I too have heard the Arcana Nineve."

A silence stole over the room. Horvath looked questioningly at Veronica, who shrugged. Horvath knew that an Arcana was a prophecy, a great world changing one that a seer would have once in their life. However, he'd never heard of an Arcana Nineve before. Merlin drew himself up and his lips into a snarl.

"You don't deserve to say that name, sullying it with your filthy lips," he growled, "Know this; Arthur will never acknowledge Mordred. He knows what you and that boy are; a whore and a bastard."

Fury flashed in Morgana's eyes. She started to speak but Merlin spoke over here;

"Remove yourself form my Keep," he said, "Before I break my vows and strike you down where you stand."

Horvath had never heard Merlin speak like this before, never heard him so incensed. Face paling Morgana turned on her heel and swept from the room. The door slammed behind her and Merlin slumped down. He placed a hand on a pillar and started to breath hard. Uncertainly Horvath stepped forward.

"Master?" he asked, "What 'other' things has she done?"

Merlin looked up at him. His eyes flickered over to Veronica before saying;

"For another time."

"And the Arcana Nineve?"

Merlin sighed.

"Something I heard a long time ago," he said quietly, "And something that must never be mentioned again."

Frowning Horvath took a step back. He didn't like information being kept from him, especially when it was so obviously important. Merlin didn't notice though and drew himself up.

"We need to formulate a plan," he said, "I cannot leave Camelot, it will be noticed. But my apprentices, no one shall notice you."

Merlin turned to the two of them.

"Horvath," he said, "You must travel to Cardinal Invictus in Rome. Use a teleporter ring. He is not antagonistic to magic users and you are crafty; he may listen to you. You must ask for a Papal Bull demanding that the charges be dismissed. He will understand the delicate political situation and use his influence."

Horvath nodded.

"Veronica," continued Merlin, "You must go to King Laertes, he will respect an emissary I send. Tell him he cannot invade, instead he should set aside a fortified castle near the border that Guinevere can flee to."

She nodded.

"We need to find Lancelot," Merlin said, running his fingers through his hair, "He's the only one who can pull off a rescue. He probably doesn't even know a trial is going on, that fool never did understand politics. But who…who can I send?"

"Send me."

As one they turned to the doors. Balthazar stood there, his face stoic.

"I'll find him," he said.


	27. Chapter 27

As thrilled as Veronica was to see that Balthazar was up and about, she couldn't help but be worried about him. After he had declared his intention of finding Lancelot he had gone silent again, only nodding curtly in response to Merlin's instructions. Horvath kept casting glances at him as well and even Merlin had showed some signs of unease.

That had been hours ago. It was night now, and preparations to leave were already well underway. Leaving by darkness would be less conspicuous that way. Veronica had changed into her blanchet travelling gown and was now saddling up her horse. Balthazar was doing the same thing opposite her and Horvath was assisting them both. Since he was travelling by magic he had decided to take a few hours to help those who weren't.

Despite Horvath's repeated appeals to Balthazar, he still hadn't said anything. There were only vague shrugs and gestures in place of his answers. He hadn't even made eye contact with him. Veronica bit her lip and looked over at him for the millionth time in the past few minutes, perhaps even in the past few seconds. His foot was in the stirrup and he was mounting the horse, so it was now or never.

"Balthazar," she said, "Are you alright?"

Horvath looked at her in a 'are-you-really-going-to-ask-that?' way. She ignored him and looked past him to where Balthazar was now regarding her. His eyes flickered down to the silver necklace that she wore, and then back up to her face. Finally he set his eyes forward again and waved his hand.

Veronica tried to ignore Horvath's exasperated look. She took hope in the fact that he had looked at her. Tentatively she walked forward and placed her hand on his. He stared at it for a minute as though it were the oddest thing that he had ever seen. Biting her lip again she searched for something comforting to say, anything, in the silence that followed.

"I was once a page to Letholdus," Balthazar said suddenly, "It wasn't long, just for about a year after my parents died. Master's negotiations went on for weeks before Letholdus would let him take me."

His eyes moved away from her hand and resumed staring straight ahead, not looking at either of them. Veronica looked over at Horvath who appeared to be surprised. Without looking at her he wriggled his hand from beneath her own and laid it on top of hers. His fingers curled gently around it.

"Right before I left he told me something, knew I was upset about leaving," he said, "Said that I was going away for awhile, but that I'd see him again. Said that we were all that was left of our family, but that other people would join it. People we'd meet, people we'd love, so that our 'family' would always be growing. Maybe I'd find a few members where I went."

His blue eyes turned to them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Horvath staring darkly at her hand that Balthazar was holding. She quickly dismissed it though, as Balthazar was looking up again.

"When it happened I thought I was alone, damn near gave up," he said, "Then I opened my eyes. Literally."

For a second his gaze locked with Veronica's. Then it took in Horvath as well.

"He was right; I did find family where I went," he said, gently lifting Veronica's hand into the air before letting it go, "And right now I'm probably the furthest thing from alone that there is. And let me tell you something; I'm never going to give up now. I'm never going to stop fighting."

Without another word he kicked the horse and it galloped off into the distance. Veronica took a deep breath inwards sharply. Horvath looked at her and smiled weakly.

"He's gonna be fine," he said

"I know," she said, swinging onto her horse, "I know."

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"I see where you're coming from," Cardinal Invictus said, rubbing his chin, "But I'm not sure many of the other Cardinals will be able to stomach it, I'm not even sure of the Pope. She's blatantly guilty of adultery."

Horvath shrugged. So far Invictus had taken the abrupt arrival of the sorcerer rather well. This probably came from his years served as a canon in England, followed by being bishop in his See. From what Horvath understood he was an old acquaintance with Merlin, someone who understood magic wasn't the work of the devil.

However, he wasn't going to blindly follow anything a sorcerer told him. The Cardinal was no fool, and accordingly Horvath had come prepared.

"That's in the eye of the beholder," he said, "It's all circumstantial evidence really; people will say anything about unpopular Queens."

"And her majesty is unpopular?" asked Invictus, raising an eyebrow, "It has been many years since I have been in my native land, but the people always seemed to love her for her many charitable works."

"The people do love her," answered Horvath, "They find it impossible to believe the charges against her and such a highly regarded Knight of his majesty's. And really, it seems unlikely from her past record of piety. But the nobles…well…she has not given an heir and has hence denied them and their children stability."

Invictus nodded and sat down heavily in the chair.

"You must understand," he said, "Before I consult his holiness on this matter I need to be absolutely certain of several things. Who is her accuser?"

"The Count Mordred of Lothain," he answered.

A look of distaste came on the Cardinal's face. Seeing an opportunity Horvath said;

"Do you know of him?"

"King Arthur asked for a specific indulgence against him through me to his holiness," he said in disgust, "I know what the abomination is. He must exist only for evil."

Horvath nodded.

"So you'll help us?"

The Cardinal hesitated only a moment.

"Yes."

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"She's my sister," King Laertes said shortly as he strode angrily around his receiving hall, "You can't expect me to sit by and do nothing. No matter what she's done I'll be damned if I'll see her burned."

"This I understand," Veronica said, "We're not asking you to do nothing; we're asking you to simply call off your plans for invasion."

"That's the same thing!" he said hotly.

Veronica sighed. Laertes had the same bullheaded manner she had come to associate with Agravaine. While the man was merely attempting to protect his sister, and his loyalty was commendable, he was threatening to start a war after a truce that had lasted decades. Not only that, but it was hard to get him to listen for a minute.

"There is an easier way than launching an invasion," she said, "You wouldn't even have to cross the channel. Besides, you know that you wouldn't make it in time."

A look of abject helplessness came over his face. He stopped pacing and his arms fell down limply by his sides. Every single part of him seemed to sag down to the ground. Despite his thirty-five years and heavy build he looked like a little boy, lost in the woods. Veronica felt sorry for him.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked, "I can't let them burn her. I mean…she was always so ethereal…and…the fire? I can't let him do that to her."

"He doesn't want to," Veronica said gently, "And the King is looking for a way to legally prevent it. But every day it seems like it won't work out. That's why we came up with a solution."

He looked at her.

"But…" he said, trailing off.

Here was the root of the problem. Laertes wanted to help as a brother, to do anything to save his elder sister. However, he wasn't just a brother; he was a king as well. He had to do something obvious, something that would save his sister and allow him to retain his honor. Veronica sighed.

"Take credit for sheltering them when the time comes," she said, "My name will never be mentioned in this manner, nor my Master's, nor any of the other apprentices."

His large hands twisted together. Swallowing hard he said;

"I have one castle that should do the work; it's called Joyous Guard. It should work, should be strong enough. I'll send some troops to fortify it immediately."

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.

.

"We can't go back Bors," Lancelot said wearily, "They wouldn't listen to us, and they wouldn't listen to any knight who's run off with me."

"But still," argued Bors as they walked into the tent, "Someone should-who the hell are you?"

Both men drew their swords immediately. The young man looked up and raised his eyebrows. He had taken a seat at the table and rested his feet on its surface. With the toes of his foot he pushed the chair back slightly, leaning on it. His hands were folded quietly in his lap and he nodded at the two men.

"Lord Balthazar Blakeson," Balthazar said, tipping his head slightly and looking belligerently at them, "Earl of Lincolnshire."

"I thought that the Earl of Lincolnshire was named Letholdus," said Bors suspiciously.

Balthazar smiled bitterly. He brandished his hand. Lancelot could see a ring with a dark yellow stone in it, and another, plainer one, a signet ring. It took only seconds to recognize the Blakeson family crest.

"It was until he died the night you ran away," he said, "And before you ask; he wasn't with that bastard Mordred. My brother thought the world of you, of all the Knights of the Round Table."

"Then why are you here?" asked Lancelot, recognizing that despite his manner the man wasn't an enemy and sheathing his sword, "You look familiar."

"Ah, well that's because I'm not just an Earl," Balthazar said, "I'm also Merlin's second Apprentice."

Lancelot breathed out slowly. He looked over at Bors and gestured him to sheath his own sword. Reluctantly the man did so and Lancelot turned back to him.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"My Master had formulated a plan to solve your mess," Balthazar said, "And you happen to play a key part in it. We need your sword if we're to save the Queen."

Deep in thought Lancelot took a seat opposite him.

"Arthur wouldn't-"

"His majesty's hand may very well be forced," Balthazar said impatiently, "Now, are you in or not?"

There wasn't even a silence before Lancelot's prompt and fervent answer;

"I'd do anything for her."

Something flickered in the young man's face. The hostile look that he had had faded and he said, much more kindly than he had before;

"What you need to do is what you've always done; save her."


	28. Chapter 28

Merlin walked slowly into the hall. His footsteps echoed on the empty stone hall; he hadn't expected anyone to be there. No one felt quite right about what was going to happen the next day, save for those who had orchestrated it. Many of the nobles were with confessors or in their apartments, trying to get to sleep. There were only two people who were going to be up at this hour; him and Arthur.

Sure enough he found the man sitting at a table. Arthur had one arm resting on it, holding his head. The other hung limply towards the ground, holding a simple sheet of parchment. He didn't look up when he heard Merlin approach; he knew just as well as the other man that they were the only ones who would come.

"It's a pardon Merlin," Arthur said, not looking up, "I've written up a pardon. All I need to do now is sign it and it'll go into law. Then they'll be fine; they won't burn her tomorrow and then Lancelot can come back."

"Yes," Merlin said quietly, halting his progress, "you could do that."

"All I need to do is sign it," Arthur said, his voice somewhat threatening.

Merlin sighed.

"But we both know you're not going to."

There was a choking sob.

"I loved her," he said, "I knew, all those years I knew. But…I couldn't. I just…he was my friend. I could never bring myself to confront them about it or seek revenge. I just couldn't…"

Taking a few more steps Merlin put his hand on the shoulder of the man who was the closest thing he'd ever had to a son. He understood only too well. He had raised Arthur to be a servant to the greater good, never once thinking about the misery that it would bring the poor boy. If he had only taught him to be selfish every now and then, perhaps things would've been different.

True, the kingdom might not have been in the good condition that it was. However, perhaps the King would be able to hold himself together a little more, would have learned that he couldn't put the happiness of others before him every single time. No human could do that without going mad, and in hindsight Merlin was amazed that Arthur had made it so far.

Of course, he had realized this too late for it to do much good. Merlin found himself worrying about the other child he had helped raise; Veronica. If this was what was happening to the man he considered his prodigy, what about her? Silly question; he already knew that she was going to be miserable.

"I'm sorry," he said, still quiet.

Arthur looked up and smiled bitterly.

"It's not your fault," he said.

"If I had let…If I had let her have more of a hand raising you-" started Merlin painfully.

Immediately Arthur raised the hand with the paper in it to stop him.

"There's no cause to do that," he sighed, "It'll just make it all worse for both of us. You did what you could. You knew about them too, you knew I knew, and you knew it had to be kept a secret."

There was no need to answer.

"It's all ending," said Arthur, "I can feel it. After this…I'm naming my heir. And it won't be that…that…**mistake**. It'll be one of Morgause's…Gawain's inheriting his father's kingdom and I hear King Marc has made Agravaine his heir. Maybe Gaheris or Gareth then. I'll ask Morgause about it."

He looked back down at the piece of parchment.

"There's still time," he said pitifully, "I could still sign it…"

"But that wouldn't be just," Merlin said, "Any other woman who committed a crime like this, and treason no less, would be burned."

Arthur nodded unhappily. Merlin removed his hand and turned to go.

"It would be right to let them go," Arthur called after him, "Not just, but right."

Merlin stopped and said quietly;

"You do what is just; you're a King. Leave me to do what is right to me; I'm a sorcerer."

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.

.

Horvath shifted from one foot to another. Veronica stood by him, chewing rapidly on her lip. To pass the time he watched how her teeth managed to envelope her lips in the way they did, something he felt he could watch for hours. If he was personally honest with himself he could watch anything she did for hours.

However, he knew he couldn't. Some day he would, but not now. Soon Guinevere was going to be led out to the stake, and there had been no word from Balthazar yet. All in all it looked like the plan was only two-thirds complete. Anything that was only two-thirds right was never any good for him; who would want something that only worked two-thirds of the time or two thirds of an apple? It just wouldn't work.

He looked around himself. The apprentices had picked a spot near the gate. It was the nearest to a staircase in case Merlin summoned them up to the royal box. The chance was unlikely, since they were incognito. Both of them had hoods over their heads, careful not to let anyone know that they were there. If things went according to plan no one could know that they had been there at all. Every one of the servants at the Keep would swear under threat of death that the apprentices had been cleaning up a magical mishap in the library.

All of those preparations didn't make the waiting any better though. The pervading mood of dread was infectious and it was making Horvath nervous. It was having a similar affect on Veronica. She was looking nervously around her, continuously raising a hand to her silver necklace. Apparently that was another gesture to add to the catalogue of things she did instead of cry.

The necklace was an oddity. Horvath never knew where she had gotten it from, but it obviously meant a good deal to her. He wondered why; it was so simple and really rather cheap-looking. It puzzled him for other reasons too and he wondered vaguely, and somewhat jealously, if anything he could get her could match it.

Someone edged up close to them. Horvath hadn't even had time to look around before Veronica whispered;

"Balthazar."

Balthazar nodded.

"Did you-?"

He nodded again, grinning. A trumpet blast announced the entry of Guinevere. Two of her ladies walked beside her, one crying into her handkerchief and the other with red-rimmed eyes. Guinevere looked composed but also pale, wearing a simple white gown. Horvath wondered if perhaps Merlin had given her word of their plan somehow.

She was certainly very silent as they tied her hands behind her. If it was him he'd be fighting; he'd be damned if he'd allow someone else to decide his fate for him in that matter. From his own brief exposure to flames he knew it was an awful way to go as well. He hazarded a glance up at where Merlin, Arthur, and the Orkney royalty from where they watched. Queen Morgause had turned her head away and her sons and husband were looking suitably uncomfortable.

Arthur though, Arthur was different. He didn't avert his eyes, just stared straight ahead. It was as though he was seeing the entire scene but not really taking it in. Horvath could see the toll that the whole event was taking on the aging king. A herald started talking and Horvath looked back at Balthazar.

"Lancelot nearby?" he asked.

Balthazar gave a nod, but Horvath could see that his eyes were darting around.

"Wish he'd hurry up," Balthazar breathed angrily.

From the royal box Merlin's eyes were upon them. There was a plan B, and it involved the three apprentices fighting their way through and playing Lancelot's part for the Queen's rescue. There were even a few horses outside Camelot waiting for them, and Horvath still had Merlin's teleportation ring.

However, it was plan B for a very important reason. Namely everyone would be able to figure out who'd done it. Not even the servants' testimony would be enough to excuse them. Their number would simply be too much of a coincidence and they would never be able to get through without magic with any less. After that the charges of corruption of justice would tear apart the kingdom instead of the already existing schisms.

The torch was lit and its bearer began marching towards the brush. The apprentices were casting looks at each other now. Horvath's hand shifted to the hilt of his sword; he saw the other two do the same. A slight glow began to come from their rings. Political schisms or no they were going to have to do something in a few seconds.

The galloping of hooves broke Horvath's preparations. He didn't even have to look as Lancelot charged in with three or four other nights. It took the legendary swordsman only a few well-placed blade strokes to hack his way through the company of guards. Horvath watched a true master, if not also a fool, at work as he launched himself onto the unburned wood.

It was then that the archers appeared at the parapet. Horvath saw Veronica close her eyes and start muttering under her breath. A second later the bowstrings snapped and the few arrows that had already been launched fell pitifully short of their target. She opened her eyes, an expression of satisfaction there.

Lancelot had untied Guinevere now and was helping her onto his horse. His knights noticed this and quickly withdrew from their battles. With equal speed they started heading towards the gate which, to Horvath's dismay, was already being closed. There was no way in hell he was about to allow a damned gate to get in the way of their well-laid plans.

Slowly he edged along the wall. Concentrating he allowed his sword to tap the wall which was the foundation for the gate mechanisms. A long time ago he had put his ring into his sword hilt. He was much better with a sword than many spells, and felt that wearing the clunky thing got into his way. Not only that, but it allowed his use of magic to be much less obvious.

With extreme care he pulled the complex spell out of the recesses of his brain. He had to make the chains rust and catch, but look natural at the same time. It was difficult, so very difficult. Horvath didn't even know if he was doing it right until up on the ramparts the guards swore. Keeping his eyes closed Horvath grinned.

The chains had stuck in the winch, and Lancelot and his company galloped out unaided. Horvath grinned wider and moved away from the wall. He stopped forward and looked over at his fellow apprentices, both of them looking approvingly at him. It was a job well done, and he basked in the murmured praise and Veronica's smile.

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.

.

Morgana watched, white-lipped with fury. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Mordred stroking his scar furiously, digging into his skin and drawing droplets of blood in some places. She wished that she could rip something apart herself; she had believed that the death of Guinevere and the banishment of Lancelot would open all the opportunities that she needed.

Angrily she looked down towards the ground. It was obvious to her that the three cloaked observers were Merlin's bastard apprentices. They looked like they were congratulating themselves which made Morgana want to call lightening down on them. Certainly they had orchestrated this; mud from travelling stained their cloaks and there was no other reason for congratulations. She gripped the edge of the stone castle so hard that she felt one of her nails break.

As she looked at them though, she noticed something. The tallest of them, Balthazar she supposed, was standing very close to the female apprentice. He'd even thrown an arm around her shoulder, apparently basking in their good fortune. To her surprise she noticed that the other one, Horvath, had done the same thing too.

Now, to most people it was nothing more than a friendly, all-around congratulating, celebratory walk. However, Morgana had built her life off of watching the nuances of people. Horvath or Balthazar could have easily thrown their arms around each other's shoulders, or done something with no contact at all. Instead they had both decided to come in physical contact with Veronica.

"_And Artemis' northern daughter shall be the quarry, and on her the earth shall move."_

Slowly a wicked grin spread across Morgana's face. There wasn't much she knew about Balthazar personally; all that she had ever seen was his loyalty to his master. Horvath she knew some things about, enough to try and approach him like she had only a few days previous. She knew more than she wanted to about Veronica. She had heard rumors though, rumors of Horvath's wild temper and his misconduct. Taking this into account with other things, she reached a satisfying conclusion.

Her hand shot out and she grabbed the hand that Mordred had been using to scar himself further. He glared at her, blood still on his cheek, his expression murderous. Upon seeing her expression though, he stopped. Furrowing his brow he lowered his hand so that it rested on the stonework.

"Something on your mind mother?"

"Many things my son, many things," she said, "But we can go ahead with our plan. We might not have broken the King. We might not have broken the apprentices or their master either, but not to worry; they'll break themselves."

Mordred looked at her questioningly.

"Later," she said, waving her hand dismissively, "Right now I need you to fetch the Blakesons' blood and some of the release potion."

"And you?" he asked.

"I'll give us an alibi, a reason not to show our faces for the next week or so."

"Week?" asked Mordred in shock.

Morgana smiled again.

"We're going down to Scarborough."


	29. Chapter 29

_**A/N: **__And this is the chapter where, as they say, the shit hits the fan. _

"Can I speak with you for a minute Veronica?" asked Horvath.

She looked up briefly. Three months had passed since their triumph with preventing Guinevere's execution. The last she had heard Lancelot and the Queen were still holed up in Joyous Guard, the Papal Bull not quite reaching England yet. The distance between Rome and Camelot was great and the sea was unpredictable after all. No matter, the problem was all but over and the solution would come soon.

In the meantime Arthur had officially declared Gaheris his heir to the throne, to be succeeded by Gareth if he were to die. Morgana had been present then, and for a minute it looked as though something were about to happen. However, she had just sniffed and gone out of the hall with her son in tow.

"Your timing's good," Veronica replied as got up from the ground, wondering vaguely why Horvath was outside, "I was just finishing up."

"Finishing up what?" he asked curiously.

"Plant restoration," she said, tapping the tree she'd been kneeling by with her fist, "It was dying, and I think losing a perfectly good apple tree is a shame when I can do something about it. What did you want to say?"

Horvath smiled nervously and licked his lips.

"I uh…hm," he said, "You'd think I hadn't rehearsed or something…"

He looked up at her with a sheepish expression. Cocking her head to the side Veronica said;

"Come on, whatever it is can't be that embarrassing. Did you and Balthazar set fire to something again? You know I'm not very good at cover-ups."

"We're not fifteen anymore," Horvath said pointedly.

"You could've fooled me," she grinned, "But come on. I'll be here 'til my twenty-second birthday if you don't hurry up."

"That's not that far off," he said.

"I know," Veronica shrugged, "It's just a figure of speech."

Closing his eyes Horvath took another deep breath.

"I would like to start courting you."

"Was that so hard?" asked Veronica, "Now-what?"

Again the sheepish expression came across his face.

"I would like to start courting you," he repeated.

Her mouth opened a few times. She shut it abruptly, her mind furiously trying to think up something to say.

"I…Horvath," she said carefully, "You're a very good friend…very good…but you're my brother. I just don't…I just don't feel that way about you."

He nodded, as if that was to be expected.

"I know," he said earnestly, "We've been friends for such a long time that I know my affections must come as something of a surprise. I've been trying to make sure that no one knew for the longest time….it would be odd if things…never mind. I never even told Balthazar."

Wishing that this wasn't happening Veronica hugged herself. Weakly she asked;

"If you know that…then why did you go and…go and…?"

…_ruin __**everything**__._

"I think it would be good if we got to know each other in that sense," he said, his voice still bright, "I just didn't want it to come as a complete surprise. We could take some time with this, see how it goes."

"So this is just a heads-up then?" she asked, closing her eyes tightly.

"I…I suppose that you could call it that."

Feeling a sharp ache in her chest she said;

"Horvath, no."

"Huh?" he asked.

"Listen, you can't do this," she said, opening her eyes again, "I can't allow you to…it would be wrong."

"What do you mean?"

She saw the pain creeping into his face and sighed heavily. Veronica wanted to do this without hurting his feelings. It wasn't as though she didn't have some experience in this area. There had been plenty of occasions in the past where she had gently turned men down. However, this time was rather different; she was his friend. She was close to him, had grown up with him.

Part of her told her that it wouldn't be wrong to just let it continue on for a little while; make it clear that it wasn't working out that way after a while. However, she immediately rejected it and smacked it out of her brain. She wasn't a tease like some arrogant noblewoman. She wasn't willing to lead Horvath on like that.

Then there was the fact that Balthazar was already courting her. Of course, there hadn't been any letters or flowers in the months since his family had died. Veronica understood that though. He had undergone a tragedy; it would probably be awhile before he even thought about trying to court her for a long time yet.

"It would be a lie," she said, "I…I'm sorry, but I don't love you."

"It's okay," he said patiently, "I told you I knew that. And I…I can…I can get you to love me."

Veronica had to suppress an expression of revulsion. She knew that he hadn't meant it that way, but it was the same cry of the many haughty men who had chased after her with their ultimate destination being a bedroom. Taking a deep breath she calmed down enough to answer reasonably;

"I'm sorry, but you can't."

"I'm just trying to-"

"I know," she said, "But you're not listening to me. I told you that it can't work out."

"Why not!" he demanded, "Why don't you just listen?"

Blinking Veronica looked at Horvath in surprise. He was getting violent now, something that she wasn't used to seeing him like at all.

"I said why not?" he snapped.

Drawing herself up Veronica tried to see a reasonable way to deal with the situation. She decided to settle on the truth of the matter.

"Horvath," she said quietly, "I wouldn't want to hurt you or lead you on. Like I said, it wouldn't work. You see…I'm already in love with someone."

Immediately Horvath looked as though he'd been slapped. After a few seconds though, the expression turned dark.

"Who?" he asked, his voice low.

"Beg pardon?"

"Tell me who it is!" he yelled.

Instinctively she reached for her silver necklace. It was a mistake, she could see from the way Horvath's eyes darted jealously to it. Veronica knew it was too late to take her hand away though; that would just make the already awful situation even worse. She had never seen Horvath lose it like this. Adopting a soothing tone she started;

"Horvath-"

"Don't you call me that!" he said threateningly, "Why did you always call me by last name? My name's Maxim dammit! You call everyone else by their first name! You call Balthazar…by…his…"

In the moment that the final syllables left his lips, he knew. Veronica couldn't quite explain how she knew that he knew, just that he did. Something had changed about him, something horribly subtle. There was something in his posture that betrayed a cracking, a breaking of infinite proportions. A look had come into his eyes, somewhere between betrayal and fury.

Without warning his arm shot forward. Horvath's fingers closed around the silver necklace and he jerked her forwards by it. Surprised and in pain from the sudden movement she gave a small shriek before she fell to her knees. She could feel the scratches forming on her throat and she gritted her teeth in pain. Another jerk brought her head up so that he was glaring down into her face.

"He gave you this, didn't he?" he snarled.

To emphasize his point he shook her by the necklace again. Dizzy Veronica moved up her hands, thinking of a spell to repel him. Instead his hand crushed hers in its grip. A second later, despite her strugglings, she felt him remove her ring with a growing horror. He held it outside of her reach.

"Is this all that it takes?" he demanded, "Dammit, I helped him with those poems! Helped him all this time when I didn't know what it was he wanted; wanted you when I did…and it just takes one stupid little necklace? You'd sell yourself so cheaply?"

"Let go," she said, trying to push him away from her.

Pulling her up by the necklace he grabbed her arm with his spare hand. She felt his bruising fingers wrapping around it. Panic started to set in as she tried to wriggle away, maybe get her ring back somehow, but mostly just to get away from him. Whoever this was now, this wasn't the Horvath she had grown up with. This was something different, something she'd never seen before, something horribly dangerous.

"HORVATH!"

Both of them turned to see Merlin standing not three feet away from them. There was a tense moment when the three of them looked at each other; Veronica with her scratched and bleeding throat, Horvath in his jealousy, and Merlin radiating righteous rage.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?" demanded Merlin coldly, "Release her this instant."

Veronica watched as the black in Horvath's eyes started to take over.

"Horvath," threatened Merlin, "Let her go."

Horvath's eyes flashed back to hers before finally settling on the silver necklace. Pulling the necklace forward he broke the clasp and threw Veronica to the ground. All around her the links of the necklace broke, scattering across the ground. Angrily Horvath tossed her ring afterwards. She reached for it and looked over at where Horvath was storming towards the Keep.

For a second Merlin looked after Horvath in continued rage. Then he strode over to Veronica.

"What happened?" he asked, helping her up.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Inarticulately she tried to explain a situation that she herself didn't fully understand. Shoving her ring back on her finger she twisted her hands together over and over before wrapping them around herself. Veronica started breathing deeply in, the gravity of the event starting only now to sink in.

Sighing Merlin put one hand on her shoulder.

"It's alright," he said, "It's alright."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, her breathing not getting any steadier. Finally they heard running feet.

"Not now," murmured Veronica to herself, "Please not now, not-"

"Horvath just left the Keep!" Balthazar said, hurrying up to them, "Shoved me and called me a bastard when I tried to stop him. What the hell happened?"

Merlin turned and gave a calculated shrug. He looked down at Veronica, whose head was still bowed.

"Veronica?" asked Balthazar, confused.

"He…he wanted to court me," she heard herself say.

She could see Balthazar visibly stiffen.

"I told him…I told him no," she said, "And he…he just started…"

Helplessly she gestured to the remains of the silver necklace around the ground.

"Did he hurt you?" Balthazar asked, his voice containing barely restrained anger.

"Not…really…" she murmured.

Merlin snorted and brushed back some of her hair before withdrawing a little. She knew that the cuts on her throat were plainly visible now. Without saying a word Balthazar put his arm on her shoulder. Gently he ran his hand over the wounds on her throat, healing them. Finally he pulled her a little closer and she leaned into his chest, still breathing hard.

"And how long had this been going on before I came?" asked Merlin.

"About…about five minutes," she said, "Saints it all happened in five minutes…"

Veronica looked around, first at the sky and trees, then at Balthazar. She wanted to tell him something, to explain that what had occurred was so much more than she had let them know. She wanted to let him know that things wouldn't be the same anymore, not in any sense. Instead she just shook her head furiously.

"I need to go," she said, pulling away from Balthazar.

"But-" he started.

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence she hurried into the Keep. Veronica took the steps two at a time to her room, shutting the door behind her. She locked it; inasmuch privacy as that would provide against sorcerers. Then she collapsed onto the floor, breathing hard and feeling where the necklace had once been; unable to cry.


	30. Chapter 30

"Your majesty has a visitor."

Morgause looked up from her embroidery.

"Who?" she asked.

"One of Lord Merlin's apprentices," the herald said nervously, "I can't quite remember the name…"

"Ah," she smiled, thinking of Veronica, "Show them in then."

The herald nodded before quickly leaving the room. Morgause brushed stray threads off of her skirt and sat up straighter. She'd wondered how the girl had been doing; she hadn't seen her in public since the May Day celebrations where she had confessed her feelings for the other apprentice.

In anticipation of her betrothal Morgause had ordered a lavender and silver gown to be made; deciding that Veronica was finally old enough for it. She looked over at the chest that it was in, trying to decide if she should open the conversation with the gift or not. She was still pondering this when the door opened. Morgause looked up expectantly and excitedly.

Instead Balthazar walked in. As he executed a short bow Morgause frowned.

"Your highness," he said.

"Lord Blakeson," she acknowledged, making sure to keep her composure, "I was sorry to hear of your brother and his family."

"Thank you for your condolences," he said formally, raising himself back up to his full height, "But that's not why I'm here. It's about Veronica."

Quietly she noted the lack of an honorific before Veronica's name. Many people had omitted it to show their distaste for the young woman. This time however, it sounded as though it were left off merely because of familiarity. She smiled to herself. So everything was settled then, was it?

"Yes?" she prompted.

Balthazar paused.

"She…she…she hasn't come out of her room in five days," he said.

Morgause's eyebrows shot up. She certainly hadn't been expecting that.

"Why not?" she asked.

Balthazar shifted from one foot to another.

"Maxi-Horvath and she…" he started weakly, "There was an argument you see. He told her…and then she…rejected him."

"Horvath," she repeated, looking over the young man shrewdly.

"Horvath," he confirmed.

"I was unaware of this," she said, "But was it just a simple rejection?"

Looing miserable Balthazar shook his head.

"He got violent, cut her up some. Not much, but…"

Furious Morgause got to her feet.

"Where is he now?"

Balthazar rubbed the back of his neck.

"He returned to the Keep yesterday," he said, "Master's furious at him and he's apologizing but right now he's confined to his quarters. Master's threatening to throw him out as his apprentice on Veronica's decision. Horvath got mad because he said it was up to her in the first place to tell him to leave or stay, not Merlin and then-"

"Not nasty enough of a punishment in my mind. And now, because of what he did **she** sequesters herself?" Morgause demanded.

"Yes," Balthazar said, "I tried, but she wouldn't talk to me."

"I'll bet she wouldn't," murmured Morgause, turning away, "And if she won't speak to you then she certainly won't speak to Merlin."

"No," Balthazar said, "And I was hoping that maybe she'd talk to you. She hasn't eaten since then and…I'm really worried about her."

Morgause looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Yes, he was worried. It oozed out of every pore. She was actually surprised now that she had missed it when he came in. Veronica had been right in believing that he had feelings for her; he did, and very strong ones at that. Swallowing her earlier rage she turned back to him.

"Of course I'll go."

He nodded and gestured to the doors. It took only a few minutes to get ready to leave, to pack the lavender dress in cloth and form an escort. They believed, however, that she was visiting Merlin on affairs of state. This was, to be put lightly, a very delicate matter. If anyone heard about what had occurred between the apprentices; it wouldn't be through her.

She didn't even stop to take her cloak off before she rushed up the stairs. A few seconds really wouldn't have mattered, but she felt as though everything counted. Balthazar pointed to the door that was Veronica's before tactfully leaving. Sighing Morgause summoned what little magic she had and unlocked the door.

Veronica looked up immediately. She had been standing by the window, looking down at the courtyard. Upon seeing Morgause her mouth opened before shutting abruptly.

"Balthazar told me," she said simply.

Veronica nodded, drawing a little closer to her. Morgause sat down, putting the package with the dress in it by the bed. It would wait. Veronica sat next to her. After a few minutes Morgause put an arm around her.

"I'm sorry this happened," she said, "But you must know that this wasn't your fault."

"How was it not my fault?" asked Veronica bitterly, "It's worse than what Balthazar told you; Horvath figured it out. He knows I chose his best friend over him."

"No," Morgause said sharply, "You never chose between them. You fell in love with Balthazar separately, having nothing to do with Horvath. The only choice you made was that you fell for Balthazar."

"He won't see it that way."

There was a silence.

"Have you spoken to him since-?"

"No," Veronica answered, "He tried, but I didn't feel up to…to…"

"You're going to have to face him sometime," Morgause said.

"I know," Veronica said, "But, I just, I wish I could've done it better. I wish I could've explained what I was feeling so that he wouldn't have-"

"Veronica," chided Morgause, "Be reasonable and pull yourself together."

"He's never been like that before," Veronica said defensively, "I must've said something wrong and if I'd said it better-"

"Veronica," repeated Morgause, "Perhaps you did make a mistake. You are only human. But the fault for this is not yours."

"But it's ruined everything!" cried Veronica, "Horvath will never be the friend he was to me or Balthazar again and…and Balthazar won't try to court me again; he knows how his friend feels. I'll just keep making things worse-"

Now the problem was coming out in its full intensity and Veronica was giving in to near-panic. However, having two daughters-in-law, four sons, and countless ladies-in-waiting had taught Morgause something. Firmly she grasped Veronica's shoulders. She turned her around so that she faced her.

"You need to understand something," she said, "There was no good way to handle this. Perhaps you have lost Horvath's friendship; but that is for him to decide. And if Balthazar loves you enough, and God in heaven he does, he will still want you. But you can't lock yourself up. You need to hear what Horvath has to say for an apology, and you need to get out there."

Veronica sighed and touched her neck. Morgause wanted to ask where her necklace had gone, but she already had a bad feeling.

"I brought you a dress," she said, gesturing to the package, "It's the one I'm always talking about, you know the one. It was supposed to be a betrothal gift."

The woman beside her stiffened visibly and chomped down on her lip. Morgause leaned over and whispered;

"It still can be one day. But it won't ever be, and you won't ever move forward with your life, unless you go out there."

Morgause drew away and watched the younger woman for a few minutes. Taking in a deep breath Veronica finally said;

"Alright."

.

.

.

Veronica came down into the main hall, her hands clasped in front of her. Morgause had come down a little earlier, telling them that she was ready to speak to Horvath. As she went down she passed Balthazar, who smiled encouragingly at her. She couldn't quite feel it in her to smile yet, so she just nodded back.

Now though it was just her and Horvath. Horvath looked at the ground, shame-faced.

"I…I'd like to begin by saying that I'm sorry," he said, "It's not good enough, I know that. But I am."

Veronica looked at him but said nothing.

"I just…how long…how long have you been…?" he trailed off.

"I was nineteen," she said.

"Ah," Horvath said knowledgably, "Never much of a chance for me then, was there?"

She sighed and Horvath hurriedly added;

"Look," he said, "If you desire, I'll spend the rest of my life apologizing."

"No, that's not what I want," she said, "But listen; Balthazar doesn't know how I feel. I never told him."

"But he loves you," Horvath said, a hint of resentment in his voice, "He does."

"I know," Veronica said quietly, "So many things have happened though, and I've wanted to…it's not important. However, if I'd have known how you felt I would've told you about it sooner-"

Horvath looked away again.

"Veronica," he said, his voice strained, "Please don't. Just please don't. It's past. All I ask now is your forgiveness and your willingness to have me be your fellow apprentice."

"Has Master threatened to get rid of you?" she asked, shocked.

"If you say no then he won't need to do it himself," Horvath replied.

Swallowing hard Veronica walked up to him.

"I'll never speak of it again," she said, "I'll just forget it ever happened. And I want you to forget too."

He nodded.

"I can't just yet," he said, his voice sounding tight, "I've got to go and apologize to Balthazar too now. Then I will; I swear I'll never bring it up again."

Gently she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. Veronica pulled away and gave him a small smile.

"Thank you for that."

Horvath nodded again, a strained smile on his face. Without another word Veronica left the hall, feeling much lighter than she had in days.

.

.

.

"Balthazar."

"Horvath."

The two regarded each other for a minute. Balthazar was leaning against a wall in the courtyard, looking warily at his approaching friend.

"You know why I've come," Horvath said.

"Yeah, I do," Balthazar answered, "I do."

"Then I'd like you to accept my apologies for what happened."

"Did Veronica accept them?" Balthazar asked tersely, "She's the offended party, not me."

Horvath flinched, but Balthazar didn't regret his words. It was exactly what his sentiments were. Although he knew it hurt him, and that somewhere down the road the fact that the two of them had loved the same woman would cause trouble, he knew it was nothing to what she was feeling. If she could move on, then he knew he damn well could as well.

"I behaved despicably to everyone all around," Horvath said tiredly, "But yes, yes she did. Wants us to forget that it ever happened."

"Then I will," Balthazar said, grasping his friend's arm firmly and smiling, "I'm glad you're not going anywhere Maxim."

"So am I," Horvath said smoothly, returning the gesture.

He paused as Balthazar released his arm.

"Before we forget about it though," he said, "Could you answer one question?"

"Well-"

"Do you love her?"

Balthazar blinked.

"You were so very angry with me when I came back," he said.

"Maxim-" he said uncomfortably.

"Then you do," he said, nodding to himself in confirmation, "And I bet you were planning on telling her."

"Yes," Balthazar answered, knowing it was useless to lie now.

"Well then," said Horvath mildly.

Feeling more uncomfortable than ever he said;

"I've been trying for months-"

"Yes, the mystery girl," Horvath smiled hollowly, "Not so much of a mystery now."

"I don't think I can now though," said Balthazar, unnerved both by the line of questioning and the look on Horvath's face, "I can't hurt her…I mean…if this happens a second time then-"

"We'll forget about it all," Horvath said, "Never happened, nor did this conversation. I've dealt with it, so don't worry about it."

Still feeling somewhat uncomfortable Balthazar heard Merlin calling him in the distance.

"I think he's been told," Balthazar said with forced lightness, "Probably has something for us to do."

"Yes, probably."

"Come on then," smiled Balthazar.

He pushed himself away from the wall and started walking towards the Keep. Hazarding a look over his shoulder he thought for a minute he saw Horvath's face burning with fury, and a look that came onto his face when he made a decision. Balthazar blinked, and Horvath's face was neutral. Shrugging it off as a trick of the light Balthazar continued his progress.


	31. Chapter 31

Merlin looked at his apprentices and sighed. Months had passed since Horvath's return to his service, and so far they had been getting on amiably, if not somewhat distantly. He wished that the crisis could have come when they were more united, but he was far too old to dwell too long on what might have been.

"It appears that Mordred and several dissatisfied barons have left the King's service and are now preparing for war," he said, "Their forces have struck camp at Camerann and are growing daily. The King has sent out messages to his allies; thus far only King Lot has answered the call. Their troops march for war."

The three of them stood stock still. It was nothing that they hadn't already heard.

"It is likely that this is the end," he said, "Of it all."

This they hadn't heard. Glances were shared between them and Merlin sighed again.

"Morgana has disappeared. It is believed that she is with them," Merlin said, "I will go to aide the King, myself and Horvath."

"But why don't Veronica and I come-" started Balthazar.

"No," Merlin said shortly, "Someone needs to protect Camelot in case of attack. Also…Gareth. He is second in line to the throne; only seventeen. He can't come with us like his brothers are. He must be protected for the stability of the kingdom."

He saw it in their eyes; they wanted to come. The likelihood of Camelot being attacked by Mordred's men was slender indeed. They wanted to make a difference; to fight beside him and Horvath like they had always done in the past. Merlin needed them to understand why they had to stay, had known that he would have to tell them this story ever since he took them on for their apprenticeship. That didn't stop it from hurting though.

Tiredly he sat down in a chair.

"A long time ago," he said, "When King Vortigen ruled this land, a young girl made a prophesy. She was only four years old but she'd had her Arcana, the Arcana Valens that took her sight as Arcanas do. You've heard this story; that she predicted that Uther would overthrow Vortigen and be king. But you haven't heard…the rest of the story."

Knowing that this was likely to be the beginning of a long tale the apprentices sat on some other chairs in the hall.

"Her name was Nimue Strongarm, daughter of a poor but talented swordsmith," he said, "She had a lineage to be proud of; her grandmother Vivienne predicted my birth fifty-five years before I was born."

He gave a wry smile.

"When Uther won he realized how valuable having a Seer in his service was. She and her father were taken in, virtually his prisoners. She made valuable prophesies and he seemed to be confrimed. Then, when she was fifteen years old, she had another Arcana."

"But Seers only have one Arcana," Balthazar said.

"Yes, yes they do," Merlin agreed, "So I want you to understand what I'm telling you when I say she had a second one."

There was a silence as he let that sink in.

"It hasn't come to pass yet, something about an eagle of the broken covenant, rejoicing in its third nestling. It took her strength from her, and she was frail for the rest of her days," he continued "She insisted that her prophecy not be the latin version of her first name as many expected her to, since she'd already used her last name on the first. She'd had another vision that it must be named something different. So on her insistence it was called the Arcana Aquila."

His voice became quiet.

"When she was eighteen I met her," he said, "I was thirty seven at the time, newly arrived at Uther's court. Her father made rings as well as swords, ones that any sorcerer should have wanted for enchantments. That was why I had come, to follow a lead on where another sorcerer had gotten a ring."

Now his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I shouldn't have fallen in love with her," he said, "It was wrong really. I knew that I shouldn't be drawn to her the way I was and that I should simply act the family friend. She didn't see it that way."

He looked up at their astonished faces. Merlin knew, although they would never say it, that imagining him being young, or younger, and in love was a stretch. They had only ever seen him with a long white beard and wrinkles, not as a young man. It would've made him laugh if what he was telling them didn't hurt so much.

"I married her," he said, "shortly after her nineteenth birthday. It was a secret marriage, due to Uther's fanatical control of her. For her dowry her father made three rings."

Merlin brandished his dragon ring and looked pointedly at Balthazar's hand. Balthazar looked down at the ring and cast his eyes over to where Horvath had put his in his sword.

"Yes, and those were the other two," he said, "She told her father to make them. Said I'd need them for myself and my three apprentices; but that my third wouldn't need one, would already have one."

Veronica looked at the simple iron ring her mother had given her so long ago. Nodding Merlin turned his attention back to the story.

"Uther found out about our alliance. He used her as a hostage and made me give him entrance to Tintagel castle disguised as its Lord. He brought back the Lady Ygraine a year later with his son; Arthur."

All three of them knew this as well, or at least part of it. The whole kingdom knew that Merlin had unwillingly played a part in Tintagel's invasion. No one had known why though.

"She came with her two daughters by her first marriage; Morgana and Morgause," he said, "And when they walked into the room Nimue had her third and final Arcana."

"A third?" asked Horvath, "Surely that must've killed her."

"It didn't," he said, "Took the red from her hair, left it white. But in the presence of those three women she predicted Arthur's rise to power, speaking gibberish and writing a prophecy wildly down on a piece of paper. That paper has become known as the Arcana Nineve."

With a flip of his hand his Incantus hovered over to them. It was much thicker than theirs, and that was saying quite a bit. He flipped through the pages before finding what he was looking for. All of the apprentices could see the words, and the picture opposite of it. He looked at it for a minute; a young blindfolded woman with long white hair and a cream gown. Clearing his throat to try and rid himself of the pain he felt he read;

"The dragon's son shall rise to be greater than his father, to conquer the sky and herd the clouds. But he shall be cursed from his desires, damned by what should be joy. His brood-mate will leave and seek the waters, and the faye shall drive him to his death. In his curse he shall end his flight, ending it in the triumph of the dark foal who shall bring back peace."

Merlin leaned back into his chair.

"Nimue could never tell me what it meant," he said, "She couldn't even remember saying it. But its meaning is fairly obvious now that it has occurred; Arthur will heal the divisions of the land and be greater than his father. Because of that night with Morgana Mordred was born, when a child should be joy. From what we've seen it appears that Mordred shall destroy Arthur. His brood-mate, Guinevere, would have an affair with Sir Lancelot of the Lake, and Morgana le faye was fated to drive him to his death."

"And the last bit?" asked Horvath.

"A black stallion is the symbol of the house of Orkney," he said, "The foal whom I believe is Gareth, the youngest of the house. He will inherit Arthur's throne. I know not of Gaheris."

Silence prevailed as the apprentices took this in.

"There was more to the prophecy," he said before reading, "And the faye will rise and devour in fire and blood. She shall haunt all for centuries, Queen of the thunderstorms. Yet in her confidence her wings shall be broken by the hawk's hatchling. He who bears the hawk's office shall reconquer the skies."

He closed the Incantus.

"Morgana is going to prove to be a greater evil than her son," he said, "And I will not be able to defeat her."

"But you're more powerful than her!" Veronica said.

"Perhaps," shrugged Merlin, "She has studied in secret for a good deal of time. I believe I am the hawk in this prophecy, a merlin as you were, and that I descendant of mine will be the one to destroy her in a few centuries time."

Before they could say anything he said;

"I had a brother. I have not been in contact with him for many years, for safety purposes you understand, but I know he had children. It would be through him that I would have an heir to my power, and I can only assume that by my office she meant my ring."

"Well we should look for him now," Horvath said, "Then we can defeat Morgana as soon as possible."

Merlin shook his head indulgently at his first apprentice.

"Doesn't work that way," he said, "If this says centuries must pass, then they must. You see, some things are in flux she told me, she can see them changing into different options. She circled those parts, and this has not been circled."

He pointed to words that had been circled, the ones speaking about the dark foal.

"She had another vision after this, somewhat related," he said, "It was brief, simply told me that the search would start for my heir in four years time for whatever reason. She called him the Prime Merlinian. When that year dawns I intend to freeze your ages; that way you will all be the ones to train him. You're the only ones I would trust."

"And you?" asked Balthazar.

Again he showed indulgence.

"If I was alive then why would I need an heir? No, I don't think I'll be alive to see this," he said before adding what he felt to be a useless plea, "And that is why you must all stay together, rely on each other. This battle is the battle for Camelot, and it shall decide the fates of many. After that though, we have a bigger task ahead of us."

Slowly he sighed and rubbed his ring.

"That is what you must know."

None of his apprentices spoke; he knew they wouldn't. They all looked very thoughtful, and he knew it was only a matter of time before one of them asked the question.

"What happened to Nimue?" asked Veronica quietly.

Merlin smiled, a sad, sick look.

"When Arthur was two years old it became apparent that his father was mad, and would in this way raise the next heir to the throne," he said, "So we stole him away into the night after her father died. We raised him together for eight years. But I had to go once. There was a rumor that Uther was planning on massacring a town and I sought to stop him."

Leaning back he said;

"It was a trick. Uther knew where we were. That night he attacked and Nimue…she was so fragile…as a Seer she had no mastery of spells…and then…"

His voice trailed off. Mastering himself he said;

"She managed to flee to Mount St. Michael with Arthur. There she took refuge, claiming the safety of the holy sanctuary. Despite Uther's orders, the soldiers dared not go out and destroy the monastery. While they dithered the tide came in, and they couldn't take the island. She had been wounded though…and by the time I got there…she had died."

Briefly he closed his eyes.

"I am old now," he said, "But the pain never goes away."

Without opening his eyes he said;

"Now you know why it is so important that Gareth be protected and that no matter what we need to survive and pull through. We cannot afford the instability that his death would bring."

"Yes Master," the three apprentices chorused.

"You must get ready Horvath," he said, "And Balthazar, you must see to Camelot's defenses. Veronica…stay with me."

"Shouldn't she-?" started Balthazar.

"No," Merlin said sharply, opening his eyes, "I must speak with her in private."

Reluctantly Horvath and Balthazar got up. Merlin saw Balthazar look at Veronica a minute before leaving. As soon as the door closed Veronica said;

"I must apologize for asking about her."

"No," Merlin said, shaking his head, "I would've told you even if you hadn't said something. But this is different. There is another part to the Arcana, something that neither of us must tell Horvath or Balthazar. Do you swear to secrecy?"

Veronica looked shocked.

"Do you?" he demanded.

Hesitantly she nodded her head. Merlin summoned his Incantus back and opened it once more.

"It comes before the part about my successor," he said before reading out, "And Artemis' northern daughter shall be the quarry, and on her the earth shall move. Two hunters shall pursue her. She will allow one to cut out her heart and replace it with his own. On her choice the world will be saved, by her pain and sacrifice shall we see the future."

He looked up at her. She had already understood some of it, it showed in her face.

"How…I…" she started weakly.

"Northern, from Scarborough," he said, "Artemis, Greek goddess of the hunt. Veronica Hunt. I have an idea of what the pursuit means, and I believe you've already let someone take your heart, although not quite so literally. Your choice has been made, and that is why I tell you now."

"And the part about pain and sacrifice?" she choked out.  
He sighed deeply.

"I believe that is coming," he said, "But I want you to know is that I also believe time is running out. I don't know what will happen in four years. But I know that whatever it is will hurt you deeply somehow. I say this so that you will be warned."

Merlin gave her a pointed look.

"There are many things we must sacrifice for our craft, for serving the greater good," he said, "But sometimes the craft pays back. For those of us who are truly going to suffer it lets us find our soul mates, even if it's just for a little while. It gave me Nimue; despite her being taken from me and then having me live for so long afterwards. Yet, it was better than never knowing her. Chances must be taken; make the next four years count."

He gave a wry smile.

"Now," he said, "go join Balthazar. We have a trying time ahead of us."


	32. Chapter 32

Morgana rested her chin on her hand and smiled. She stared into a mirror, cocking her head one way after another. Anyone passing by might have thought that she was looking at her reflection, but the mirror's surface was far too murky for her to make it out. A shadow moved in it, although it was far too bulky to be that of Morgana.

"How long has it been?" a raspy voice asked.

"Twelve years now, give or take a few months," she said, still looking into the mirror, "Thirteen since I last saw you."

"It seems like longer."

"Well Merlin made your prison very well," she said, "I've never seen so many binding spells, nor ones anywhere near this complex. Do you know that it took five months to get enough of them off to talk to you?"

Reaching below the table she took out a flask. Inside was a deep red-brown liquid, too thin to be blood.

"If I didn't have some Liberation potion ready then it could very well take years to get you out," she said conversationally, "But if I used this now, why you'd be free in a matter of minutes."

"Then do it."

"Perhaps," Morgana said dreamily, "Do you know how many people I had to kill to make this properly?"

There was silence.

"Do you plan on freeing me or don't you?" the voice asked irritably.

"I'm not sure," Morgana replied, "You did fail last time."

"I secured the North for you. If that damn blacksmith hadn't-"

"But the damned blacksmith did," she interrupted, "And do you remember your other set of instructions? If you couldn't gain control of the area, or it looked like you would lose it, then you were to kill the Hunt women first and foremost."

"I killed Yvainne."

"You didn't kill Veronica though," she said, "And that's a job only half done. That was why I wanted to start with the north. Do you have any idea how long it took for me to find out that they were the daughters of Artemis spoken of in the Arcana Nineve? And do you have any idea what it was like when I realized that you had failed me, that the brat who could ruin everything was sitting next to my sister on the trip to Camelot and giving me lip? It was all I could do not to strangle her right there."

Before the voice could reply Morgana continued;

"Do you know where Veronica is now? She's one of Merlin's apprentices for a total of three. And they're all grown now. It's rumored that she's the most powerful; and there is a good deal of power there, trust me."

A heavy sigh was heaved.

"What do you want for penance then? If it's to kill her than I'd do that gladly. You don't know how long I've wanted to-"

"Normally yes, I would ask you to finish the job," she said, "But…complications have arisen. Necessary complications, planned for complications, but still complications. Trapping her is now what we're aiming for."

"You could do that yourself. Why ask me?"

"Clever, clever," she said, "You always were quick on the uptake. Yes, I could. But then the other one would free her and we'd still have to deal with them."

Taking her chin off of her hand she waved her bottle around.

"My son has raised the barons he has rallied to his cause," she said, "Many of the King's troops are still besieging Joyous Guard; I made sure that they did not receive the message to come to their country's defense. The time for the final battle is now. My boy will kill Arthur and assume his rightful place. But when he comes back to be crowned I do **not **want him being struck down by Merlin and his pets."

"Now I know you can't defeat Merlin," she said firmly, "So don't worry about it. It will be done in time; done by me. In fact, I have a rather good plan for it. I'm just asking you to manage two of his apprentices; Veronica and Balthazar. They should be left guarding Camelot when Arthur's army marches out."

"How do you know that?"

"I just do. I want you to kill them. And when you're done finishing them snuffing my little nephew Gareth would be nice too. He's next after Gaheris, and he presents a threat almost as strong as Arthur."

"Why don't you do it?" the voice said suspiciously, "You wouldn't need me then."

"You're not making a good case for your freedom."

"I like to know terms and conditions first," the voice replied.

"Yes, yes," she said, "As it happens I have other, more pressing business to attend to when they should be dispatched. I need someone else, someone strong, to take care of those three. Now do we have a deal?"

"I don't really have any other choice."

"No, no you don't."

.

.

.

"Lot, I don't like this," Morgause said fervently.

Her husband looked over her and gave a small grin. He finished strapping on his armor and came over to her.

"Now, we've all been over this. You have to stay here in Mueness," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, "It'll be safe."

"I should be with Ragnelle, Gyngolyn, and Lidia in Balfour," she argued.

"No, the trip there would be too dangerous now," he said, "Trust me. We've already tried to find a way, sent out scouts. It's just impossible though. But don't worry about them; they'll be fine. You stay here; I don't think any troops will be diverted to bother you."

Morgause wanted to tell him that wasn't what she was really worried about, although point-blank voicing her fears wouldn't stop him. She just didn't want Lot to go and ride out with her half-brother. There was a feeling deep inside her that if he did she would never see him again. She had not been very magical despite her lineage; that had been her traitorous sister's forte. Now though, she knew somehow that she was going to lose him and her sons, that they were unknowingly going to their doom.

However, when she looked up she saw that he knew this too. Morgause swallowed hard. It had been such a long time since she had been a girl running into his arms when he came to rescue her. She could still remember him lifting her up on his horse, the smell of his cloak when she buried her face in it as they rode off into the night. Morgause could remember the loud pounding of her heart, the knowledge that what she was doing was against everything she had been taught, and not giving a damn.

Once upon a time she had been a young girl with a loving family, then an orphan, a prisoner, a princess, a Queen, a mother, and finally a grandmother. Morgause had never considered that widow would be one of her titles. She had never known that it would end like this; with an inevitable goodbye and the knowledge of a forthcoming tragedy. Leaning in she rested her head in the crook of his neck. In response he held her tightly.

"I'll come back," he assured her.

Deep down though, she knew that he knew that he wouldn't. There was some sort of forewarning in her that she wouldn't see any member of her family again. Morgause tilted her head up and gave him a passionate, desperate kiss while tears flowed unbidden down her cheeks. His grip was becoming crushing now, and Morgause wished that she would simply die right there and not have to pass through the bitter waters that awaited her.

However, she didn't. She let Lot go and watched him leave. Out of her window she saw him ride out with his men to meet his sons and brother-in-law. Morgause cried again. Something inside her told her that they were all going to die, including her brother, and that it would be her sister or nephew who did it. It felt ridiculous, and perhaps she would feel silly later, but she thought that the chances of it being so were unlikely.

Straightening up she left the room. Over the years as Queen she had learned that sometimes emotions had to be suppressed. The time for tears would come again later, but she would have to be smart now. Taking a key out of her pocket she unlocked a door and entered a room she hadn't been in for over twenty years.

Inside several chests were lined up against the wall. Some of them contained the royal silver, others gold, and then some jewelry and crowns reserved for state occasions. Morgause hadn't come for any of these things. Unlocking a chest she stared at the items of her dowry and searched until she saw a single white doll.

Morgause took the doll out and locked the chest back up. She stared at the doll. Things might not come to that. Once more though, things told her that they would. When they did she would need the doll with her, one of the magical items of the Tintagel family she had stolen for her dowry. Walking out of the room she locked the door again and returned to her chambers. Then she resumed her weeping, the tears for the loss that had not yet happened.

.

.

.

"Everything's ready," Balthazar said, looking over the ramparts, "The archers are in place and the gates are closed. No one is getting in or out of the city. Now we've just got to wait."

Veronica nodded.

"I just wish that there was some sort of word from Camerann," he said, "Gareth's getting antsy and so am I."

She looked over at where Gareth was standing, tapping his sword gently on his shoulder.

"I just wish we knew," murmured Gareth.

"That's the worst part of any situation," she said softly, "Not knowing."

"Without a doubt," Balthazar said, "I know Master will be alright, and I believe Horvath will be too but…there's this feeling of finality in the air."

"Yes," she agreed, "Feels like everything's ending."

"I guess it doesn't help that it's winter now," Gareth observed.

Looking out at the snows Veronica rested her arms on the stone walls. On top of that she laid her head and said quietly;

"I turned twenty-two today."

"You did?" he asked, looing shocked, "I thought that was next week."

"No, this week."

"But-"

"I think I know when my own birthday is."

"Sorry."

"Don't be," she said, "It's been busy."

Still he looked embarrassed. Veronica smiled at him, wanting to kiss the embarrassment away. She also wanted to have him wrap his arms around her and stave away the cold of the winter night. However, she knew she couldn't do that. No matter what Merlin had told her, now was not the time.

Veronica was starting to wonder when the time **would** be though. Nothing would ever be simple again, she knew that now, and there would probably be no good time. Looking over at him she could see that he was still guilty about missing her birthday. Perhaps…perhaps…no. Once Camerann was fought and over with, then she could tell him. Not now though.

An explosion rocked the walls. Veronica flung out her arms grasped the stone of the walls, desperate to keep on her feet. Balthazar did the same. When it was over the soldiers around them started to yell, scrambling to their positions. Balthazar and Veronica shared a look though; that had been no normal siege engine.

"Gareth, stay with us!" Balthazar yelled, "We have to get you out of here!"

As one the three took off in the direction opposite of the explosion. Her feet pounded on the pavement and she felt her sword smack against her legs. Veronica found herself wishing that she could wear appropriate attire for battle, not these dresses that everyone insisted on trapping her inside of.

"How did this happen?" Balthazar muttered to himself, "We had magical wards!"

"Apparently they're powerful enough to get through them," she surmised.

The three of them reached the same conclusion at the same time.

"Goddamn my aunt," said Gareth through gritted teeth.

"Can't be Morgana," Veronica assured, although she wondered just who she was fooling with her wavering voice, "She'll want to be down at Camerann."

Balthazar nodded, but all of them were uneasy now. When they finally reached the end of the stairs Veronica was knocked back by a powerful blast into a wall.

"Veronica!" Balthazar shouted.

"I'm fine!" she yelled back, struggling to her feet.

A burst of light came her way and she threw up a shield. The light bounced off of it, but she saw her shield crack a little. Veronica stared at the cracks, astonishment and fear flooding her. In all her years of making shields that had only ever happened once. It had been a long time ago, when she was very young.

"You've gotten better, I must admit."

The dust cleared and a man in a black cloak stepped through the breach. Veronica felt her shield slide down into nothingness, her complete thought process changing. Although she was well aware of her twenty-two years, she felt like she was nine again staring at her burning house. When she finally managed to dredge up a coherent thought it was voiced in one, simple word;

"Taurus."


	33. Chapter 33

"Veronica!" called Balthazar.

As though she hadn't even heard him she stood still and staring.

"Taurus," she murmured again.

Another blast of light came her way and he tackled her, bringing her down to the ground roughly. The light exploded over their heads. He looked down at her and to his dismay found that her eyes were closed and a bruise was forming on her forehead. Hoping against hope that he hadn't knocked her out he shook her slightly.

"Come on Veronica," he muttered, his shaking becoming more and more frantic.

Woozily she opened her eyes. He sighed with relief, although it still didn't look as though she were fully conscious or aware of what was happening. His reprieve was short lived as soon after he heard Gareth scream. Balthazar then redirected his attention to the sorcerer that Veronica had called Taurus.

Tarus had summoned up vines that were pulling Gareth down, dragging his sword away from him. Summoning a plasma bolt he threw it at the man, who deflected it with a flick of his wrist. With another gesture Balthazar was knocked back into the wall. He threw his arm out to cast another spell but felt his arm jerked back. Desperately he tried to move it again and found that it was practically glued to the stone wall.

"Now that's disappointing," Taurus drawled, not looking at Balthazar and heading over to Gareth, "I had expected something more of a fight. I suppose not."

Smiling slightly to himself Taurus reached out and closed his fingers around Gareth's throat. The teenager struggled under his grip but Taurus just squeezed tighter, a murderous bloodlust in his eyes. Exerting all of his strength Balthazar freed his hand from the wall and sent fire hurling towards Taurus, hoping to catch him off guard.

Sighing in irritation Taurus deflected the spell. The hand that he had deflected it with stretched out and Balthazar felt an increase in pressure on his chest. Soon it felt as though a ton of rocks had been dropped onto his lungs. Choking he struggled in vain against the containment spell, knowing that at this rate it wouldn't be very long before he ran out of air.

.

.

.

"Give me your hand."

Arthur looked up, exhausted, at his brother-in-law. The two of them stood knee deep in the churned-up mud, both of them covered in blood. Bodies of their pages, heralds, knights, and foot soldiers lay scattered around them. Sounds of battle echoed across the field, but they were more distant now.

Lot was currently on higher ground than Arthur, and he held out his hand to help him up. Arthur took it and allowed himself to be assisted. He barely managed to avoid slipping in the filth and blood that washed around them like water. When he finally got a firm footing he released Lot's arm.

"Thank you," he panted.

Sighing deeply he looked down at Excalibur. It had been over thirty years since he had pulled that sword out of the stone at Merlin's bequest. Throughout all his battles it had proved to be an unstoppable force for good. Then though, he had been able to swing it with a strength and determination in his arm that he had now lost.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," he murmured.

"Who is?" asked Lot, a chuckle starting and dying in his throat.

Taking a deep breath Arthur nodded towards the fight.

"We should rejoin them."

"You're in no condition to do so," Lot said.

His eyes looked down to Arthur's left hand. It was injured from their last clash with Mordred's forces. Arthur could no longer feel it and he knew that it was mangled beyond repair. Despite the temporary bandage he had wrapped it in he was still managing to lose a good deal of blood. There were other wounds on him now that he hadn't even bothered to bandage.

"It's not my sword hand," Arthur argued.

"No, but none the less-" started Lot.

"We're winning," Arthur said, "If I leave them now they'll lose hope. I can't allow that to happen now, not after everything."

Lot opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off abruptly. Arthur frowned, knowing that it was Lot's habit to never hold back his opinion. With a growing sense of horror Arthur saw blood come from the corner of his mouth. He fell forward and saw Mordred standing behind him, pulling his blade out of his stomach. Mordred grinned at Lot's twitching form before turning his attention to Arthur.

"Hello daddy," he said pleasantly.

In response Arthur lashed out at him. It was a clumsy blow and Mordred avoided it easily. Inwardly Arthur knew that nothing should move that fast; Mordred must've enhanced his speed with his magic.

"You've become slow old man," he chided softly, "Time to let some new blood take over."

"I've left everything to my sister's children," snarled Arthur, "Be realistic; your forces are losing, and I have left instructions that under no circumstances are you to become King."

Mordred shrugged at Arthur's assessment. He thrust out his sword and Arthur parried, they traded blows for awhile until they parted, panting heavily.

"I've lost this round then," Mordred said, "But I have time. And I wouldn't be banking on my cousins; I killed Gawain, Agravaine, and Gaheris not half an hour ago."

"Gareth's still alive," Arthur snapped.

Swinging his sword Mordred caught him under his chin. Arthur was knocked back, feeling the blood pour down from the cut. His next move was a kick to Arthur's chest, bringing him to his knees.

"And mommy's friend will get him," he said, grinning, "What will you do then?"

Furiously Arthur looked up at him, tilting his head up. No matter what happened he was going to retain his dignity.

"Trust those I left behind."

Laughing Mordred brought his sword back. Using what remained of his strength Arthur slashed with Excalibur. A deep cut appeared from Mordred's shoulder to his hip. It burned and Mordred howled. Blood spurted out of it, and Mordred brought his sword down. It sliced through Arthur's stomach and he collapsed backwards.

Still howling Mordred stumbled off the battlefield. Arthur tried to take in a choking breath, but he knew he didn't have long. Blood was pouring from his wounds and he could feel the chill of death now. He breathed out, looking at the bodies of his soldiers and enemies, kin and strangers.

Footsteps made him look up. Merlin stood there, trembling. Struggling Arthur managed a weak smile.

"Hello," he said, "Come…to see me…off?"

Softly Merlin knelt down.

"I can't heal this," he said, "You're too far gone."

"… thought so," Arthur said, "Mordred's still…alive. Hit him…with Excalibur…though."

"The wound will never fully heal then," Merlin said, choking back tears.

"That's…good," murmured Arthur, "Merlin…you have…to get Excalibur to…to Gareth…can't let him…die…you must… stop them…"

"I will," Merlin vowed, clenching his fists, "By my hand or by that of my apprentices', they will die."

"Good…" Arthur said, feeling himself slipping away, "I just…you…you did right by me…father…"

Openly crying now Merlin said;

"You did better than anything I ever could've done, the son I'd always wanted."

Arthur smiled again.

"It's over," Merlin said quietly, "It's all over now. There are no plans to make, no more battles to fight. You can rest. I'll take care of it all."

Taking one last breath the Once and Future King closed his eyes for the last time.

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.

.

Morgause stood in front of her mirror, staring into it with vacant eyes. She had dressed herself carefully that night, put on her royal jewels and betrothal gifts she had been given as a girl. One of her ringed hands rested on the table, her long, wide sleeve covering the surrounding area. The other hung limply by her side.

She might have been dressed for holding court if not for one thing; her gown was completely black as though she were in deepest mourning. Even the veil that she had placed on her head was black instead of her customary white. Morgause breathed out slowly, not quite a sigh and yet not quite a normal breath.

"Hello sister," she said blandly.

Morgana stepped out of the shadows.

"And here I was thinking I would be waiting all evening," Morgana smirked.

"No, I do have a little magic in me," Morgause said, her voice still neutral, "My blood is magical, just like yours. And I can cast magical links."

"Ah, let me guess," said Morgana, "You cast links for your husband and sons, perhaps even our bastard half-brother. How many still live?"

"My husband died three hours ago at Camerann minutes before Arthur," she replied calmly, "Gawain, Agravaine and Gaheris died before that, no more than half an hour apart. Ten minutes later I felt Ragnelle, Gyngolyn, and Lidia leave this world. Gareth is dying as we speak. My house and line are nearly gone and for all of this, I am powerless. And now I suppose you are here to kill me too."

"You never had any power," sneered Morgana, standing directly behind her sister, "And yes, I am here to send you to join your precious family."

"You're wasting your time. I'm already dead," Morgause answered honestly, "I've been dead for hours now. You're just here to destroy the physical aspect. But I have one question."

Morgause tilted herself slightly so that she could look at Morgana.

"Why?" she said, "These were your nephews, nieces-in-law, great-nephews-"

"Alternate heirs to the throne that my boy deserves," corrected Morgana.

"Lot was your brother-in-law-"

"A foolish man who married the wrong Tintagel sister and made her Queen."

Morgause nodded as though this confirmed what she already knew. She turned around fully now, one hand still resting on the table.

"You are my sister," she said, looking her in the eye, "I elevated you once I became Queen, gave you lands and titles, gave you an exalted position in Court. I never once held my position over you, never once held bitterness that you told that old Lord that I planned to run away with Lot."

"So you knew that was me?"

"From the moment it happened."

"Then you're even stupider than I thought," snapped Morgana, "You don't see it. **You**, my baby sister, elevated **me**."

"Then it was jealousy," Morgause said mildly, "Jealousy and lust for power that made you destroy what you never recognized as your family."

"Stop your preaching," Morgana said, annoyed now.

"One more thing to say and then you can do as you wish," said Morgause, lifting her hand from the table and showing it to be holding a small black doll with a ream of parchment wrapped around it, "Do you know what this is?"

Frowning Morgana tilted her head.

"That belonged to father," she said, "I recognize him showing it to us once. It…it was called the Grimhold, a carrying device. But was it not white?"

"You're only half-right," Morgause said, glancing at the object "When it is white it is a carrying device."

She tilted her arm so that the sleeve pulled back so that the large slit that she had made on her wrist was clearly displayed. Blood dripped from it onto the floor.

"But I've been feeding it my blood since the moment I felt my sons die, the blood of my sorrow and the hate that I feel for the evil that you've become. It's saturated with my blood, black with it. And now it has become a most impenetrable prison."

As she held it in her hand it vanished.

"I've sent it to Merlin now with what little magic I have," she said calmly, "With instructions on how to use it. One day it will hold you."

Her face lost its apathy and twisted into furious triumph.

"As a ghost before you I have cursed you," Morgause said, "And even when you get rid of my visage the Grimhold will hang over you for eternity until it has caged you. May it be a hell for you until you burn where you deserve."

Morgana's face turned black with fury and she screamed out, her hand extended. A plasma bolt hit Morgause in the stomach, knocking her back against her vanity and shattering the mirror that rested there. Falling to the floor Morgause started to laugh, the laugh of one who has done everything, lost everything, and is now ready to die.

_**A/N: **__As some of you might've noticed, I'm taking some liberties with the Arthurian legend. Technically Arthur and Mordred were supposed to kill each other at Camerann. However, I'm saving him for later. Only a few more chapters now; this should be done by the end of the week. _


	34. Chapter 34

Taurus contorted his fingers, watching as the air was forced out of the young sorcerer's lungs. Immediately to his left the same thing was happening to the prince, only in a different way, the flesh of his neck giving way beneath his fingers. It felt wonderful; death in one hand with magic, and death in the other hand with physical force. Two contrasting ideas brought together perfectly in himself. He smiled.

The smile was abruptly knocked off his face when he took a plasma bolt to the stomach. Pain flooded him, temporarily forcing him to his knees. Surprised, and somewhat distracted, he involuntarily released both Gareth and Balthazar. When he managed to look up he saw something that he hadn't expected.

"Don't. You. Touch. Them," snarled Veronica, striding forward.

Electricity crackled up her arms, fanning her hair out. Pale purple light poured from her ring, wrapping around her and spilling out onto the ground.

"Miss Hunt," Taurus said, getting to his feet.

.

.

.

Miles away Morgause was gasping out her last breaths. The plasma bolt had just been to move and shock her, the killing blow had come from the knife that Morgana had been carrying. She appeared to want to do her killings up close and personal. It had hurt more than she thought it would, seeing how she had felt so very numb at first. Now her sister sat on her own bed, watching her die with interest.

Suddenly Morgause felt a flicker of life from her link to Gareth. At first she thought it was a cruel trick of her weak magic and she tried to ignore it. Then she felt it grow stronger and stronger until she had to accept what she felt as a fact. She cried out in joy then, tears pouring down her face.

"Gareth," she murmured.

He was alive; one of her children had miraculously survived. It didn't matter that the pool of her blood was rapidly growing around her, that every breath felt like it was another knife to her ribs. It didn't matter what happened to her now; it never had. She smiled, using up the last of her remaining strength. Morgana cocked her head and looked at her strangely from far away, but Morgause didn't care. Her son was alive.

.

.

.

Veronica bristled at his casual mention of her last name. He would pay for that, oh yes he would. She forced her eyes flickered over to Gareth. He was fine, unconscious but breathing almost normally. Arthur's heir was fine, and if she had anything to say he was going to live. The light from her ring pulsed out a little.

Now she finally allowed herself to look over at Balthazar. Unlike Gareth he was conscious but clearly struggling to take in air. Oh, yes would pay dearly for that as well. She didn't notice that the light surrounding her became stronger, darker, and pulsed outwards violently. Although she wore a second ring on her other hands for decoy purposes, anyone would know where her power came from just by looking at her.

Angrily she tilted her head upwards and gave Taurus a disdainful look.

"Taurus," she said, "I believe you and I have something to settle."

"Yes," he agreed, "Yes we do daughter of Artemis."

For a minute she let surprise overtake her; how did he know about the Arcana Nineve? She didn't have much time to wonder though as lightening fell down from the sky at her. Once more she bristled inside; he was trying to kill her the same way he had killed her mother. Waving her hand the purple light formed itself into a shield. Unlike the last time it didn't crack, it stood strong until the lightening had faded away.

"Impressive," said Taurus, his voice changing half an octave, "How did you manage to gain seventy-seven degrees in the past few minutes?"

She tilted her head up. Seventy-seven was it? That made her a sorceress of the highest degree. However; she knew it wouldn't last long and that she would return to her normal degree of seven-hundred once things were over. Veronica only prayed that it would last her long enough to defeat him.

"The weaker the sorcerer, or **sorceress**, the weaker the magic," she said haughtily, "And I'm many things, but I'm not weak."

He cocked his head at her.

"I see. So, which one of these men do you love, which one have you made yourself stronger to protect so they don't go the same way as mommy?" he asked, "The Prince or the Apprentice?"

"None of your damn business," she snapped.

Taurus smirked and Veronica realized that she shouldn't have said anything at all. Angry at being tricked she sent a wave of fire towards him. He put up a vacuum spell, but to her satisfaction she saw her fire singe his eyebrows. Looking somewhat shaken Taurus flung masonry at her which she blocked; still her shield held fast.

Several spells came her way in a flurry, transformation ones that turned rocks into beasts of prey, water that moved into a torrent to wash her away, and others. Still she managed to keep up her shield and cast offensive spells. Feeling a confidence growing in her she glared down at Taurus' panting and tired form.

"You're not as strong as I am," she said with satisfaction, "And you're getting weaker by the minute. And you know what else? You're going to pay for what you did."

Looking around furtively his eyes rested on Balthazar, who was trying to get up.

"I'm guessing the Apprentice," he said.

Lightening came down from the sky again. Frantically Veronica disabled her own shield in an attempt to put one over Balthazar. The lightening was repelled but almost instantly she felt herself thrown up against the wall. Her head hit it first, and hard. She gritted her teeth as she felt it cut into her scalp. She knew that blood was coming out of it from the light-headed feeling that followed.

Veronica felt her body lift into the air until it was pressed hard against the wall. Breathing hard she tried to free herself, only to find her efforts just as fruitless as Balthazar's had been earlier.

"So I was right," mused Taurus, walking up to her until he was practically close enough to touch "And now, if you'll permit me to-"

From behind him a plasma bolt knocked him to the side. Veronica felt the pressure holding her release and before she knew it she had fallen to the ground. She cast a quick glance at Balthazar who was starting to get up, exhausted from his magic. Taurus was glaring in his direction now and Veronica scurried to her feet.

In an imitation of the spell that had held her and Balthazar to the wall she tried to force him Taurus the ground. It wasn't easy; she wasn't familiar with the spell and was performing it under duress. However, it did the trick for the moment. Knowing that it was now or never she drew her sword and hurried over to Taurus.

As she ran she saw, just for a second, her mother, father, and brothers standing near the wall. Her father stood in the same quiet way that he always had, one hand on his wife's shoulder and the other grabbing his nearest sons into a hug. Her mother didn't smile at her, just cocked her head in the way that Veronica had inherited, the way that signified that she was waiting for her daughter to reach some conclusion. It was enough though, enough for Veronica for the rest of eternity.

The sorcerer was still struggling against her magic when she arrived. He had a moment to look up before she raised her sword high into the air.

"This is for my family you son of a bitch!"

Before he could react she brought her sword down into a wide arc, cutting his head partially off. Blood splattered everywhere and Veronica sliced at him again, determined to separate his head from his body. She had to be sure, to know that she had done this right. When the job was finally done she kicked his head away and wiped some of his blood off her face with the back of her hand. It was done.

From somewhere behind her she could feel Balthazar looking at her. She knew how she must look standing there, splattered with blood and her hair blowing in the wind. For that moment she probably didn't look human; more like a goddess of the hunt standing over her kill. Then she turned so that he could see that she was breathing in that way that she did, letting him know she was still Veronica.

Swallowing hard she sheathed her sword.

"We've got to get Gareth inside," she said, "This…he's fine…but this can't be good for him."

Nodding Balthazar started to pull the boy to his feet. Veronica helped and they made slow progress to his chambers. They set him there to rest, taking care to place strong magical wards around him. After that they set about repairing the wards for Camelot and sending new watches to defend the gap in the wall.

More than once Veronica felt the soldiers staring at her bloodstained clothes. They quit quickly when they realized that Balthazar was glaring at them, but she knew they were all wondering what happened. Perhaps Balthazar was wondering as well, but he said nothing save organizational notes for several hours.

In the very early hours of the next day they collapsed in the main hall. Veronica had excused herself earlier to change into a dark green dress, one free of bloodstains, and to scrub her face. She sat down opposite Balthazar, looking exhausted. She could see that he was trying not to look like he was staring, obviously trying to figure out how to broach a delicate subject. Feeling obligated to defend her actions she said briefly;

"He killed my family."

"Yes, I know," Balthazar said, "Master told me…several years ago."

She looked over at him for a second, and then she let her eyes close.

"He would've killed you and Gareth if I'd allowed him to get back up," she said, clenching her hands, "I **had** to do it. I couldn't let him harm you. I don't feel regret at what I had to do, it was necessary."

"I'm not saying you should," Balthazar said.

Veronica opened her eyes and managed to give a small smile. She tried to convey everything that she was feeling with her eyes; words appeared to have left her. From the look on his face she could tell that he was receiving at least some of the gratitude, understanding, and love that she felt. Taking a deep breath Balthazar said;

"I was uh, wondering…"

"Yes?" she asked, turning those eyes back to him.

"Taurus," he said, chewing on his words, "when we were fighting him, he…he asked who it was in the battle you loved and…he…well…I was just wondering…what he meant…"

Veronica stared at him. The way it was wording; it gave both of them an available route of escape. She could get out of this if she wanted to, but she was starting to feel like she didn't. Sighing Veronica got up from the table and walked over to a window. She looked out it and wrapped her arms around herself tightly. Finally she sighed again and answered;

"Exactly what it sounded like."

"Was he, uh, right?" he asked, "What he uh…said…I…"

Once more she didn't answer, just stared ahead for the longest time. She wanted to come up with something to say, something to cover it up. Finally though she relaxed her shoulders, tired of lying, of hiding, of the fear he would reject her because of his friend's interest. Very softly she said;

"Yes, he was right about who he thought it was too. I've been in love with you since I was nineteen years old."

Later Veronica would remember the next two minutes as a blur. She knew that he must've gotten up from the table at some part, gone to stand behind her. However, she would never remember it, never even hearing him make a sound. What she would remember was him laying his hand on her shoulder, sliding it up to her jaw, and very slowly turning her head to face him.

"I…I…I'm not eloquent," he said, swallowing, "You'd know that by my poetry if I'd ever signed it-"

"I knew it was you," she interrupted, smiling a little, "Why do you think I let it go on?"

He smiled back at her.

"Then you know how I felt," he said, "How I still feel, how nothing in heaven, hell, or earth is going to make me stop feeling."

She breathed a little harder and he brought up his other arm. Gently he turned her body a bit so that she faced him. Veronica bit her lip slightly before laying her hands on his chest. Then, tentatively, he leaned in. Balthazar stopped centimeters before her lips, uncertain. She hovered there as well, and they could've stayed that way forever if she hadn't looked up.

Veronica looked into his eyes and saw the glint of the fierce, violent love born for those he cared about. It was the very one that she had envied for years, hoping that it could be directed at her. Without a word she boosted herself onto her toes, closing the gap between them and surrendering to the feel of his lips on hers.


	35. Chapter 35

It was a week before the beleaguered troops returned from Camerann. Veronica and Balthazar stood with Gareth, who kept looking anxiously over the heads of the returning generals. Already Veronica knew that he was searching for his family, and already she had a feeling that he wouldn't find them.

Gareth only reached this same realization when Merlin came into the hall, Horvath behind him, and presented him with Excalibur. He gripped the sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and those closest to him could see that he was fighting back tears. Swallowing hard he said, his voice strained;

"Arthur and Gaheris are dead then."

Merlin nodded solemnly. Horvath moved forward and placed a few rings in Gareth's now outstretched hand, signet rings.

"We brought the bodies back for burial," he said, somewhat bluntly.

Gareth looked much younger than seventeen then as he stared down at the symbols his brothers used to use to write him letters with most likely.

"My father," he managed as he fingered what his mind was processing as too many rings, "and my other brothers….?"

His question trailed off as he saw the apparent pity in Merlin's eyes.

"All of them?" he asked, something of panic there.

Again there was the nod. Gritting his teeth Gareth looked towards the ceiling, trying to draw his tears back into his eyes. His head came back down again and he looked determined now, not sad.

"You must send for my mother, sisters-in-law, and nephew at once," he said, his voice ringing with command, "My nephew is the heir to the thrones of Orkney and Lothain, and I shall have him protected; my mother its dowager Queen and my sisters-in-law its princesses."

Merlin had looked at him with approval before announcing;

"The new King of England."

Obediently the assembly had knelt down. She followed suit in a more feminine way, dipping both her head and body low. However, part of Veronica wondered how well the seventeen-year old would be able to bear it up. Arthur had been fifteen when he'd assumed the throne, but that had been Arthur.

Later Merlin had gathered them together and voiced what they were all probably feeling.

"Gareth will be the object of every ambitious man's hopes," he said, "He is a young man and has very little administrative experience. Morgana and Mordred are still out there, and they will try for the throne. We cannot allow corrupt men to control him."

"So we should be the controllers instead?" asked Horvath.

Merlin shot him a look.

"Advisers," he corrected.

"Same difference," shrugged Horvath.

Merlin looked oddly at his eldest apprentice. To avoid the continuation of the debate Balthazar quickly added;

"We're lucky that he'll have his mother by his side."

Merlin said nothing for awhile, then took out a small doll from somewhere inside his robes.

"Morgause sent this to me by magic," he said, "It's called the Grimhold, a powerful prison. I know not why she did this, only that she had wrapped a hastily scribbled explanation around it."

He turned it over in his hands.

"I'll teach you all how to use it, just in case," he said.

"But," Veronica said, "why did she send it to you? She must've known she would be summoned to court no matter what the outcome of Camerann was."

Merlin coughed.

"We're very lucky that Gareth takes after her," he said, ignoring Veronica's question, "King Lot, may he rest in peace, was a good man and King but he was never very politically minded. Much of the kingdom's running was left to her, and I can only hope that she managed to impart much of her wisdom to her son."

He dismissed them then with his usual curt nod. Horvath turned immediately to go out of the room, but Balthazar and Veronica stayed behind. Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you still tarry?" he asked.

"We have something to tell you," Balthazar said, his voice surprisingly steady.

He reached out and took Veronica's hand. She gripped it back tightly. Balthazar started to speak, but Merlin held up a hand to stop him.

"Have you come to ask permission?" he asked.

"No. I've already asked him for permission," Veronica said, inclining her head towards Balthazar, "That's all I need."

Merlin nodded slowly.

"Yes, I doubt that either of you would take a negative answer from me even if I were inclined to give it. This is a simple declaration of intent then?"

Balthazar nodded.

"Fine," Merlin said, "Remember Horvath's feelings, but I believe you have already taken that into account. And, you might not like this; but don't try to marry each other yet. Politically it would be…unwise. It's a delicate situation. Wait a few years."

Veronica felt Balthazar's hand become cold and clammy in her own.

"I…I haven't asked her…yet…I mean-" he stuttered.

"Yes, but I have no doubt you intend to," Merlin grinned, turning to leave the room.

She tilted her head and smiled at Balthazar, squeezing his hand a little. Once Merlin had left the room she kissed him lightly. His face turned red and she marveled at the effect she had on him. Their peace went uninterrupted until three days later when the second, awful blow to the stability of their country came.

Gareth had been sitting down when he had been told that the women and child he had sworn to protect had died on the same day the rest of his family had. Later people said that his reclining position had fortunate. Otherwise he might've fallen or fainted, and he was about to be crowned and hence couldn't show that. It would be improper.

Now though, things had changed a good deal from when Gareth had first been named as a potential heir to the throne. It appeared that he would inherit it all; England, Lothain, Orkney, and Cornwall. Britain was to be united by a slaughter of kinsmen that the one man who benefited from it was torn apart by.

She hadn't been looking at him at the time though, and only realized the political ramifications later. Instead she had felt a numb feeling pour into her, and her limbs became heavy and useless. Veronica hadn't started breathing hard or biting her lip; she felt that she was quite beyond that.

_She was ten and scared out of her mind with these strange people going to a strange place-_

"_We had the luck of meeting Lord Merlin on the road," explained Morgause, "This is his new apprentice. Isn't she lovely?"_

_Seventeen and uncertain of how she felt about the world and how people watched her-_

"_And who's this?" she asked, "Merlin, I don't believe I've met this young lady before. A foreign princess perhaps?"_

_Now eighteen, somewhat more sure of herself, but still scared that she was in a world that was far beyond her-_

"_You were never a peasant in rags; even I could see that the first day you appeared. There was a spark, a fire there that needed a little help. Merlin would do that for me, but I could send you on your way with clothes and a friend in a far away place."_

_Twenty winters now and she was madly in love but in need of a push forward-_

"_But you know who he is," Morgause said, putting her hand on Veronica's shoulder, "Otherwise you wouldn't be quite so excited I think. Now, come now, what's his name?"_

_Twenty-one and sadder than she had ever been since the death of her family-_

"_It still can be one day. But it won't ever be, and you won't ever move forward with your life, unless you go out there."_

"Are you alright?"

When she finally focused on the world around her she saw that the question had been asked by Horvath, who was looking at her strangely. Then she realized that everyone had left the hall except Horvath, and Balthazar who was approaching with apprehension from the corner. She hadn't even noticed any of the others go.

"Are you alright?" Horvath repeated, concerned.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Finally she shook her head fiercely and turned to flee out of the room. Veronica hadn't gotten more than a few feet up the staircase before she heard footsteps behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Balthazar standing there, looking her with deep sympathy on his face.

Veronica stopped in mid-step, so quickly that she almost fell. Although she wanted nothing more to go to her room and lock the door against the world, she knew she couldn't. Neither of them moved for a moment, Balthazar obviously trying to see if she was going to run. When he saw that she wasn't he took a few steps forward and gently put his hand on her shoulder.

"Veronica," he said gently.

Looking away she closed her eyes. She was feeling too much, things she had always remained silent about when life took the turnings that it did. However, she couldn't bring herself to shake his hand off her shoulder. That would hurt him too much, make things too hard for both of them. So valiantly she made the attempt to explain.

"You must think I'm monstrous," she said, "The woman who acted as a surrogate mother to me died and I didn't even cry. She was there whenever I needed her the most, always knew what to say, and now that she's dead I can't cry."

Before he could deny it she added softly;

"I haven't cried since I was nine," she said, "And then I told myself not to, because if Taurus ever found me he would kill me, and I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. When Merlin came it became letting anyone see me cry, because it still felt like I'd let him see it."

She shuddered. Moving closer he wrapped his arms around her.

"He's dead," Veronica said, "but he took my tears from me. It's been so long that I've even forgotten what they feel like. What will it take for me to cry again? Will I need my heart ripped to pieces, to lose it entirely to sorrow before I can? Is that what must happen?"

Her arms came up and encircled his back. Her hands fisted in the material of his coat, her nails digging into his back.

"Do I need to lose everyone?"

In response Balthazar simply brought his head closer to her ear and murmured;

"I'm** never** going to leave you."

Veronica started breathing in her uneven way, the closest things she had come to weeping in all those years. It was, quite simply, just crying without tears. He stroked her back soothingly, whispering words of comfort in her ear. Balthazar kissed her forehead and she buried her face deeper into his chest, needing him to be there.

They were both unaware that their privacy was being intruded upon. From the doorway Horvath stood and looked in. Like Balthazar he had been concerned and followed her out of the hall. However, he was no longer concerned. One of his hands gripped the hilt of his sword threateningly, and his eyes blazed with rage.

.

.

.

Digging her nails so hard into her palms that they bled Morgana looked at her son. He lay on his bed, stretched out, and quite dead. For a while she had thought he would be fine, and then the wounds from Excalibur would suddenly start bleeding again. She cursed the sword that had destroyed her son. If any of the nobles who followed him knew then they would desert them in a minute.

Angrily she paced her corridor. She had thought that their victory was assured. Instead she found that everything had been ruined by Merlin, Arthur, and her disgusting sister. Swearing she calmly reviewed her options. It wasn't just a matter of having the nobles follow them; it was also a matter of letting those who had murdered her son win.

Sighing she placed her fingertips on his forehead. The room hummed with magic as she linked their power and their souls, taking his back into the world. As a girl she had seen a similar spell, called a fusion spell. This was it on a different level, but it was more effective for what she wanted. Now he would truly be her heir, be rejuvenated when she was.

Then she put him into a form of stasis, hoping that it would help with his enchanted wounds. She could fool those idiotic nobles with a doppelganger and save Mordred's kingdom for him when he was stronger. Until then she knew of a safe place where he could slumber, and then come back to claim his kingdom when he was ready.

Fighting back the tears of frustration at what she was being forced to do to her only child she turned away. Morgana completed the spell to freeze her own age, determining that whenever Mordred woke up she would be there to greet him. Also, she plotted a way to get revenge on the country of good-for-nothings. For that though, an army was required.

Morgana had an army of sorcerers powerful enough to do what she wanted, but she knew that they would dwindle quickly if Merlin had anything to say about it, which he would. She had heard of a spell, much in the same way as the fusion spell, when she was a girl. It was called the Rising, but it had been taken out of most of the Incantuses. Of course, if anyone still had it, then Merlin would.


	36. Chapter 36

The winter of Arthur's death became the spring of chaos. Like Merlin had predicted, many men fought and vied for the control of the young king. However, he was too much like his mother. Gareth wouldn't allow anyone to control him, making surprisingly wise decisions on laws and regulations. Some were saying that Arthur had been succeeded the Orkney prince most like him.

However, Gareth was still no Arthur. When Mordred's troops rallied Gareth's were dealt a crushing blow in a string of defeats. Still, the young man struggled on, despite having to change castles almost every day for a year. Upon the return of winter he sallied out with his troops once more, and won a glorious victory.

He wasted no time in routing the rebel troops and laying siege to any castle that owed Mordred loyalty. His penalties on the defectors were harsh; their castles were raised, their families stripped of their titles and lands, and the leader executed. Still, no matter what his methods they were effective in getting many rebels to surrender, after which they were treated much more leniently than those that didn't.

It was also a busy time for the Apprentices of Merlin. Secretly Morgana had been attracting followers in the sorcerer community and used them ruthlessly in her battles. Few were the times that they were sent out together, more often they were sent out separately or in pairs to deal with one or more of the sorcerers.

Some villages, frightened of forces beyond their comprehension, became hostile towards all sorcerers. Several abbeys and monasteries were denouncing them as the Devil's children. Many young sorcerers, just barely receiving their rings and Incantuses, were burned before they could learn to save themselves.

Once more Horvath was made to travel to Rome to get a Papal Bull encouraging peace. This time though things did not go so well and he returned empty-handed, the throne of St. Peter too divided to take up the issue of magic. It was then up to Gareth, who already had his hands full, to publish laws against the burning of sorcerers. However, no matter what the King, Merlin, or his apprentices tried, they continued on a smaller and more secretive scale.

Fears of sorcerers in the disruptive times were also reaching all-time highs in the court. However, many of them still respected Merlin for what he had done for both them and their fathers. Quick to divide the evil from the good, they began calling Merlin and all sorcerers who worked with him for the greater good Merlinians. Morganian was the disgusted term they coined for Morgana and her followers.

And so another year passed in this fashion, the struggles becoming less and less. Soon it appeared that Mordred was most likely going to fade into obscurity. A shaky stability settled over Gareth's new domains, and to cement it he quickly made an alliance with the German Emperor Otto, by marrying his daughter Betrice.

Because of her knowledge of languages and her gender Veronica was assigned to teach English to the new Queen. Betrice proved to be a quick learner and soon endeared herself to both her new husband the court with her good English. She also bore him a healthy son within the first year of their marriage that they named Henry, strengthening the alliance and Gareth's position on the throne.

However, still the newly-christened Morganians continued to attack. Whenever the Merlinians, and many sorcerers were pressed into the service of the crown, struck one down another took their place. Constantly this village or hamlet pleaded for assistance and one of the royal sorcerers would ride out.

Veronica and Balthazar were given only the briefest moments together during those turbulent years. She was mindful, however, that she should be grateful for what she had. With each month the year that would begin their search for the Prime Merlinian drew nearer. As the start of the fourth anniversary since Arthur's death drew near a small part of her knew that whatever pain and suffering Nimue had predicted for her was fast approaching.

It was, in fact, the night after the New Year came that part of her sunk into a deep melancholy. The library, being arguably the warmest room, had always been the retreat of the apprentices during that time of the year. When Veronica found that she was unable to sleep that night she had wrapped a robe and gone downstairs for some late night reading of her Incantus.

Surprisingly she found that Horvath was already there. This surprised her, because when she had initially gone to bed he hadn't arrived back from his latest mission yet. She had given him a cordial greeting and he had nodded in return, but hadn't done much else since she had come in.

So she had gone, gotten her Incantus, and settled down to read. It hadn't helped at all though, not making her drowsy in the slightest. Instead she stared down at the same page of text, rereading the same sentence again and again. From where he was Horvath noticed this and remarked casually;

"I'm sure you must've memorized the first step of the transformation spell by **now**."

She laughed a little tensely and shut the Incantus. Perhaps it would be better if she were at least in her own room trying to get to sleep.

"My mind seems to be elsewhere these days," she said.

"Don't see how reading's going to help, but perhaps this is a night where no one can sleep," Horvath said, "Merlin's up too now."

"Master," Veronica corrected.

"Oh yes, all-powerful **Master**," Horvath answered sarcastically, "And we're the ever eager **apprentices**."

Frowning Veronica got up and turned around.

"What's wrong Horvath?" she said, "We've been his apprentices since we were ten."

"Yes, and for me twenty-one years have passed since then," he said sharply, "Most people complete their apprenticeships in eight years. We know more than most **Masters**, so why are we still the **apprentices**?"

"Master says one never stops learning," she said, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Horvath snorted and returned to his perusal of the shelves. Veronica looked at him and repressed a sigh. Ever since her refusal of him around five years earlier Horvath had never been quite the same. He was a good deal sharper and more sarcastic, and in many ways a good deal angrier. She wished she knew what was poisoning him like this, but every time she tried to get to the root of the matter he pulled away.

Honestly she couldn't blame him. While his actions the day she had refused him had scared her, they were most likely motivated by shock and pain. They were never going to be friends like they had been again; she had been right when she had told Morgause that. However, she had been happy to see that his bitterness, if nothing else, had appeared to have abated a good deal with the passage of time.

"Veronica, Horvath."

The two of them turned to see Merlin in the doorway.

"You're both up. Good, makes things easier."

He jerked his head to the side, a clear command to follow him. Horvath rolled his eyes irritably but put his book down and headed out the door. Veronica followed after him, unsure as to what was going on. When they entered the main hall she saw Balthazar leaning against the fireplace.

Merlin shook his head and grabbed Balthazar by the shoulder.

"I know it's cold, but not there," he said, repositioning him to a corner of the room, "Here."

He did the same with the other two apprentices until he was satisfied.

"Now that we're all together," Merlin said, sitting down heavily, "Those of you who have done the arithmetic might have noticed that this is the year that the search for the Prime Merlinian shall begin."

Veronica felt an awful, sinking sensation in her stomach.

"I have brought you here to freeze your ages," he said, "I've been working on the spell for several weeks now, and it should be full proof. Once you have found the Prime Merlinian, you will begin to age again, to live out a normal life. Until then you shall all depend upon each other."

She breathed out slowly as Merlin got to his feet. Centuries with the man she loved and the man she had once considered to be her best friend? It certainly didn't sound as bad as all that, and she wouldn't worry at all if he hadn't told her about Nimue's prophecy.

"Now, I know that not all of you would prefer to stay the age that you are now for what very well could be several centuries," Merlin continued, "However, waiting until you're say…my age…"

He gave a wry smile. Then he cleared his throat and straightened.

"Maxim Horvath," he said, "both the eldest and the first apprentice I took."

Horvath nodded; his expression unreadable. With a great effort Merlin got to his feet and raised his hand. Green fire erupted around them, the symbols of Merlin's circle etched into the hall. Only then did Veronica see that they were all positioned inside a different inner circle bearing a different symbol.

Stepping forward Merlin placed his fingers on Maxim's forehead.

"May aevum quod vos gero subsisto vobis insquequo meus heir est instituo, tunc may vos ago sicco vestri annus ut a remuneror," he chanted.

The jewel in Merlin's ring glowed brightly. There was a blinding flash of light, then Horvath blinked. Nodding to himself Merlin moved on to Balthazar. "Balthazar Blakeson, both the second eldest and the second apprentice I took."

The fire flared a little more. Placing his fingers on his forehead he repeated;

"May aevum quod vos gero subsisto vobis insquequo meus heir est instituo, tunc may vos ago sicco vestri annus ut a remuneror."

Again there was the glowing of the ring, the flash, and the momentary confusion on Balthazar's face. Looking tired now, Merlin walked towards Veronica.

"Veronica Hunt, youngest of my apprentices and the last."

She felt an odd sensation starting in her stomach. His withered fingers brushed her forehead before he said for the third and final time;

"May aevum quod vos gero subsisto vobis insquequo meus heir est instituo, tunc may vos ago sicco vestri annus ut a remuneror."

For a moment Veronica felt as if she were floating, as if the world had been ripped away from her feet. Nothing was solid, nothing at all except herself. Then everything returned in sudden clarity and she took a deep breath in, momentarily disoriented. Nodding to himself Merlin waved his hand and the circle disappeared.

"Now," he said tiredly, "It's late. You should all be in bed."

Without another word he turned and left the room. Horvath gripped Balthazar's shoulders and began to exchange a few pleasantries. They hadn't seen each other in awhile after all. Feeling somewhat disconnected Veronica withdrew from their company and strode to a window. Outside snow was falling, already a good foot or so thick in some places.

"_On her choice the world will be saved, by her pain and sacrifice shall we see the future."_

She breathed out. It was all starting. Veronica had long wondered what exactly it had meant by 'pain and sacrifice'. She had thought it meant that she might die for some cause or another or perhaps by saving someone. While dying when she had finally gained her love would be highly ironic, she had long believed that this was how she was to die even before she heard the prophecy.

Of course, sacrifice could mean many things. It could mean that she was going to lose something other than her life. Veronica had very few people she cared about, but she had a feeling that sacrifice would mean, in this sense, ultimate sacrifice. If the sacrifice was to be in that sense, then there was one thing she did value above all else. Part of her had already figured out that she was going to somehow lose Balthazar.

.

.

.

"Good to see you back," Balthazar said to Horvath as the latter when off to bed.

Balthazar watched him go, trying to be sneaky about it but not overmuch. When he was sure that his friend was well on his way to his room he strode over to Veronica. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her body instinctively stiffen before relaxing. Leaning down he brushed his lips against her ear and whispered jokingly;

"Miss me since this evening?"

Her body abruptly jerked away from his. He was about to ask what had happened before she turned herself around in his arms, crashing her face onto his, kissing him. Surprised he returned it in the few minutes before she pulled away. Her hand stroked the side of his face and he grinned before saying;

"Is that a yes then?"

Her fingers moved from the side of his face to trace his lips. He couldn't help but notice how cool she was against his warm skin, and how completely wonderful the contact felt. Giving him a small smile she said softly;

"I used to want so many things; a normal life, a house somewhere, a good future, and the world to make sense to me."

She pulled him down into another crushing kiss. Balthazar, still surprised, held onto her tightly until she pulled away, both their breathing ragged. He noticed then that she was only in her chemise under the robe and felt his ears grow hot. Either not noticing this reaction or not caring she leaned into the crook of his neck.

"Everything's changed," Veronica said, "I've changed, and my wants have become so very different and…"

Her soft fingertips brushed over his brow.

"Now…you're the only thing in the world that I truly want for myself."

Sighing she said;

"I want you to know that," she said, "No matter what happens, I want you to know that."

"Do you think something's going to happen?" he asked, moving his head so he could look at her and feeling a little worried.

"Perhaps," she answered.

"I wouldn't let anything happen to you," he said, frowning now.

"I'm not worried about me," she laughed dryly.

Balthazar smiled.

"I can take care of myself," he answered.

Kissing the base of his neck she breathed out;

"You'd better."


	37. Chapter 37

Balthazar sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. There was a sunburn there, he could feel it. English summers were short and sharp, and he'd had the luck to be assigned to go all the way to Warwick. A Morganian had been causing trouble there, but not much more than he'd been able to handle with a few hours of work. Of course, the black clothes he had chosen for this task weren't helping at all. Still, the heat had come and he was stuck on a long trip.

He felt his eyes travel over to his water skein, although he knew that it was empty. No matter; the sun was quickly becoming obscured by rainclouds and the temperature was going down a great deal.** English** summers after all. Even so, he was still thirsty. It had been empty for hours, and he should've stopped to refill it. However, he had calculated that he could make Glastonbury well before sunset if he didn't stop.

It turned out that he was right since the city was in sight now, not even a mile away. If he continued after dark then he would be able to make it to Camelot that day, since it really wasn't that far away. He'd be able to get plenty of water at the Keep, which was only a little further than the city.

That is, if the soldiers didn't drink it all first. Since the last month soldiers had been housed at the Keep for strategic purposes. It wasn't that he disliked all of them; some of them reminded him a little of Letholdus in some ways. It was simply that he **loathed** most of them that caused him to wish that they'd go away.

Generally they were disorderly, never kept curfew, and shouted far into the night. Anyone who wasn't dead-drunk at night, which many of them were, didn't sleep at all. He knew that Merlin was displeased with the situation as well, but had simply done it to set a good example and show loyalty for Gareth. Perhaps that was why what Balthazar was sure was the worst battalion in the army was housed at the Keep; no one else would put up with them.

Then there was the first and foremost reason for his loathing; the way they looked at Veronica. Yes, he was aware that she could handle herself and that these men held no interest for her, nor did any other man save him, as she had told him. He smiled as he thought of that; thirty years old and still acting like he was love-struck at twenty.

However, the fact remained that the soldiers didn't seem to get the picture. The night before he left there had been something of an incident. A captain had made the very stupid mistake of making comments in his presence about Veronica that were decidedly unchivalrous. Balthazar knew he should've taken into consideration the man's drunkenness, but as it happened he was too angry to bother.

The captain soon found himself missing several teeth from a well-aimed punch. Balthazar, while part of him believed that he had taken leave of his senses, had still had the presence of mind to punch him with the hand with all of his rings on it. The scars that would turn up later would be interesting to say the least. Once the first punch had been thrown; Balthazar found himself in a brawl with several of the man's subordinates cheering and placing bets.

Although he had won another soldier had reported this to Merlin. This had earned him a scolding, yes a **scolding**, from Merlin. After that he had been laughed at by Horvath and privately castigated by Veronica. They had fought for an hour before she had finally smiled, shook her head, rolled her eyes, and started healing the bruises on his face.

Balthazar hoped that word of the incident had gotten around and that people were watching their tongues about her. Fighting just to fight was purposeless and rather beneath him or anyone who had been born to observe the rules of combat. Still, he knew that if anyone said anything like that about Veronica again then he wasn't going to damn well go up to them and slap them with a glove. Instead, he would break their nose.

As he approached the side road that would take him around the city he saw another rider coming up. Shielding his eyes from the sun he thought he recognized the white mare and maroon cloak that the rider was using. It took him only seconds to realize who it was and, laughing, he jumped off of his horse and hurried to meet her.

Veronica was just sliding off her horse when he reached her. Wrapping his arms around her waist he took her off it fully, swinging her about in the air some. He noticed the sword on her hip and smiled. She had come prepared. Then he set her down on her feet and kissed her. She punched his chest playfully with one hand and slid the hood of her cloak down fully with the other.

"And how did you know I was coming back?" he asked.

"Oh, I didn't," she replied, tilting her head back, "I was just on my way to the market in Glastonbury and apparently I ran into a little luck."

He smiled at her before whistling for his horse to come over.

"Then we'll go together."

"Aren't you tired from your trip though?" she asked, concerned.

Balthazar laughed.

"Veronica, love, I could go on for a millennia," he said, "But why go so late?"

"I wasn't going to go at first," she said, getting back on her horse, "But then, well…I just felt that I needed to get out for a bit. It's just stifling to be in the Keep for too long."

Nodding Balthazar got onto his own horse. They talked about everything and nothing on their way into the city. As they went in they were careful to put their hoods up. Sorcerers were becoming continually controversial and he didn't want to get involved in another fight so soon after his last one.

Once they had they had paid for an inn, it would probably be too late once they were done to head back, and had horses tied up securely Veronica began browsing the stalls. She had her hand on Balthazar's, so he was essentially dragged from around the market with her. He really didn't mind, since he had absolutely nothing that he wanted to see there. Shopping in any form was something that he generally preferred to leave to other people.

However, he could plainly see that she enjoyed it. Although she didn't do it then, he knew from past experience that she haggled like a professional, and he could only suppose that she had done this a good deal in her village. Her eyes found wonder in everything. Whenever she found something and pointed it out to him he feigned the emotion as well, although he knew he could never do it as well as she did it.

This was why he loved her; the joy she found in everything. Nothing escaped her notice, nothing at all. She could move with a grace through the crowds, never bumping into anyone or turning anything over. Next to her he felt so clumsy and jaded that he wondered why she persistently held his hand, why she loved him as much as she did.

He shook his head and banished those thoughts. Balthazar felt that if he thought about it all too much then he'd be tempted to discourage her from staying with him in the first place. Yet towards the beginning of their relationship he had discovered one thing; no matter how inferior he felt next to her she obviously found some sort of worth in him. If he denied that then he would be denying her logic, and he respected her too much to do that. Then again, it probably pointed back to him being so incredibly greedy.

Veronica stopped in front of him in a place where the crowds thinned out a little. He stopped too, wondering what it was that she was doing. She took her hood down, as if trying to get a better look at something. He turned his head slightly, trying to gauge why the look in her eyes was so full of longing.

Finally he directed his eyes in the direction that she was looking. A necklace was draped over a stand placed carefully on a stall. It was a fairly popular design, only much more expensive. Even from where he was he could see the pearls on it, the beautiful craftsmanship. Still, he recognized it as something different as well; a betrothal gift.

Generally when a man gave his suit of marriage to a girl's parents he would give her something as a sign of his devotion, or at least of his wealth. It depended if the marriage was arranged or not. The gift was used at the man's formal declaration of intent, although the girl's parents and he, or his parents, had probably been working behind the scenes for months.

Many women at court had necklaces like that, although they didn't wear them so much after they were married. Now that he thought about it many of those women were ones of Veronica's acquaintance. Even Queen Betrice had had one on for awhile. He looked from the necklace to Veronica, then back at the necklace. The look in her eyes was as if she would draw it magnetically to herself through the sheer power of want.

In that moment he decided one thing; the hell with it. To hell with politics and delicate situations that shouldn't be a barrier. He loved this woman who stood beside him and wanted her more than anything. No one should be telling them not to be together the way they wanted to do because some Kings and nobles were fighting a civil war. To hell with it.

They walked some distance away as he tried to think of some way to distract her. His chance came when someone bearing a pitcher of water accidentally tripped. She was drenched, and the bearer of the pitcher apologized profusely. Veronica told him it was fine, then once he had left told Balthazar she'd need to go change.

"I brought the dress that Morgause gave me because it had a rip around the sleeve," she said, "Needed to be repaired and I've never worked with that kind of fabric before. It's just a small tear though, so it'll do until this dries off."

Nodding he told her he'd meet her at the inn soon. Then he hurried to the stall and pointed to the necklace.

"How much?" he asked.

The woman who was running the stall turned around. She was older, maybe in her forties, and her eyes scanned the table until she saw what he was looking for. A smile lit up her face when she recognized the item.

"Two marks," she said.

He dug around in his pocket for the necessary amount. The woman looked surprised that he didn't try to haggle, but smiled broader at his haste. Picking the necklace up he put it into his pocket. Balthazar would give it to her tonight; she'd never see it coming, not at all. Grinning he started to walk away to the inn.

"Balthazar."

In surprise Balthazar turned around to see Horvath looking at him. Puzzled he asked;

"What are you doing here?"

Horvath smirked.

"Finishing up some business."

Before Balthazar could ask exactly what that was he felt himself thrown back violently. He crashed into a stall, breaking it and scattering its wares. Wood dust clouded the air and he coughed, splinters in his hands and his head spinning. People were running away in a powerful crush now, he could hear their screams and their footsteps. Fighting pain he scrambled to his feet, shocked at what had just happened.

"What the hell Maxim?" he demanded.

Horvath's smirk grew. His sword hilt came up and Balthazar cast a shield to defend himself. The fire that came was dispelled and Horvath shrugged it off.

"I was hoping you'd be here," he said, "Thought I could intercept you. For awhile I thought I'd been too late and I would need to postpone it. Good thing I did not. Lady Morgana grows impatient for your death and luck is against you."

Abruptly Balthazar's shield dropped.

"No," he whispered, "Don't tell me-"

"Oh yes Balthazar, five years," Horvath said, "I've been in her service for five years, and I have to say that it has rewarded me far better than doing those miserable little chores for that stupid old man."

Miserable little chores? Stupid old man? Was that what their apprenticeship was being dismissed as? Then the words 'five years' stuck in his mind.

"Wait, five years?" Balthazar asked in growing horror, doing the math.

A wave of fire came towards him again and Balthazar threw up his shield again. It was cracking now; his mind was anything but clear as the situation continued to grow worse.

"Yes, five years," snapped Horvath, "Five years after finding out that I came in second to you in the only thing that mattered; five years since my best friend betrayed me."

"I never betrayed you!" shouted Balthazar.

"Yes you did!" Horvath snarled, lightening coming out of his sword hilt, "And Merlin took your side! Of course he did! Never mattered that I was the first apprentice; not at all! It never mattered that I didn't see things his way; he never tried to let me understand, only ordered me to! Lady Morgana though, she knows that I'm better than you. That's why she sent **me **to kill you; the Great Balthazar!"

The shield was cracking all over now. It would come down soon if Balthazar didn't do something, but he couldn't think of anything to do. Horvath had been a second brother, a friend who, while they had drifted apart recently, he had always believed he could depend on. Something inside of his soul was cracking, much worse and much more irreparable then his shield.

"Maxim," he said, his voice sounding tinny, "Maxim we grew up together. We blew up the North tower of the Keep the first time we tried to transfigure a chair, fought Mordred and the Orkney brothers in the mud. There was that time we snuck out for a tournament and when we both escaped that ball through the window. We saved Queen Guinevere, fought countless evils, you pulled me out of a fire. Don't you remember that?"

Horvath nodded.

"Yes, yes I do," he said, "But I don't care."

The next attack he sent shattered Balthazar's shield and part of his soul. He was thrown back and lay there, pain coming from every aspect of himself. Horvath approached, holding his sword like it was an actual weapon instead of a magical form of conduction. Balthazar tried to summon up a defensive spell but all he could remember was Horvath helping him improve his sword handling technique when he was twelve.

"Goodbye Balthazar," Horvath said, raising his sword up.

The thrust that was meant to kill him was blocked. In between them stood Veronica, parrying with her sword. She looked murderously at Horvath, digging her feet into the ground and trying to push him backwards. Horvath appeared to be momentarily floored; he hadn't expected her to be there. He quickly recovered.

"Typical," he sneered, "I should've known wherever he was you wouldn't be far behind."

"Don't make me kill you Horvath," she said, her voice trembling with mixed emotions.

"You wouldn't."

"You tell me," she hissed, "You taught me how to use a sword; you know I can kill someone with it."

Her voice became louder as she continued.

"You've just taught me that a friend I once knew died a very long time ago, that bonds can mean nothing; why don't you tell me?"

"Veronica," he said dangerously.

"But what you never taught me what a person can do when protecting what matters to them most!" she shouted, "And right now I can feel like there's nothing I wouldn't do!"

For a moment their standoff continued. Then Horvath swore under his breath.

"You not supposed to die," he said, "That was part of the arrangement. You don't have to die here, just him."

"You kill him and you kill me too," she said, straining to keep her sword locked with his, "And we both know that you're **not **getting to him without going through me first."

Swearing once more Horvath withdrew. He took off and Veronica aimed a plasma bolt at him. Swinging his sword he deflected it before disappearing behind the city's walls. She immediately turned and knelt next to Balthazar. Veronica felt his forehead and asked him;

"Are you alright?"

He stared at her blankly.

"He betrayed us," he said thickly.

"Beloved-"

"I've known him since I was ten," he said, his voice rising in anger, "Twenty years and he sells his soul to Morgana for the chance to kill me and everything that he knows. To destroy it all. He wouldn't have stopped with me, wants more than just…than just..."

His hand shot up and gripped hers.

"We need to warn Master," he said, "We need to warn him now."

_**A/N: **__I know it's kinda crammed in there, but I couldn't resist using the necklace scene. Only one more chapter to go and a prologue to be posted tomorrow. _


	38. Chapter 38

They rode at a breakneck pace through the dying day. Such was their haste that many things were left back in the inn. Veronica didn't really mind leaving her white blanchet gown behind, she had outgrown it and could only fit in it with the help of magic these days. This wasn't what she was thinking about though.

She had thought Balthazar would be tired before, he had been on the road for weeks. Now the idea of him being tired seemed the most unlikely thing on earth. There was an indistinguishable, all-consuming fire that burned in his eyes and made him look like the most alert person alive.

When night came they didn't even stop. Balthazar conjured some magical torches to help guide them, enhanced so they wouldn't blow out. He hadn't said anything, not even slowing as he conjured them and tossed one to Veronica. She caught it with ease and she saw his eyes flicker over to her to double check that it had made it. After that he turned his eyes back to the road before them.

His silence worried her. Veronica saw the fierce anger and determination on Balthazar's face. She felt like she should tell him something to take away the burden that he was bearing. True enough, they had both known Horvath since they were children. However; he had been closer to Horvath than she, his betrayal cut him the deepest. She doubted that there was anything that she could say that would allay this blow.

Beneath them she felt their horses starting to tire. A stop was still out of the question though, the urgency in Balthazar's eyes plainly said that he would rather the horses died beneath them than lose even a minute. She started to cast small spells on their steeds in an attempt to keep them energized, but no matter what she did they were slowing down.

When they finally made it to the Keep hours later they knew something was wrong. Dead soldiers lay scattered in the courtyard. Without a word they drew their swords and moved forwards throughout the sea of bodies. Everyone had been killed, thrust aside or into walls. Veronica saw charred corpses that made her want to free her stomach of everything she had ever eaten.

Once inside the scene wasn't much better, in some ways it was actually more gruesome. Servants were lying dead in the halls as well as the soldiers who had rushed to their defense. No matter what she had thought about the soldiers, what they had both thought, they had died trying to protect those within the Keep.

She saw the anger and disgust grow in Balthazar's eyes. Instinctively one of her hands left her sword and reached for his. He squeezed hers back as they moved forwards. They both knew that whatever waited them ahead would be unpleasant if the halls and courtyard of their home were desecrated in such a way. Together they turned and started heading towards the practice room; if Merlin was anywhere he would be there.

A small coughing noise from her left made her turn around. A boy, no more than twelve, was lying near the wall. He was bleeding horribly from a stomach wound, but she could see that he was not beyond repair. Balthazar looked at her. He was near hopeless when it came to healing, but she wasn't. While she hated to leave Balthazar to face whatever awaited them alone for a little bit, she couldn't let the boy die. She clenched his hand a little more tightly before letting it go.

"I'll catch up with you," she said, "This won't take a minute."

He nodded moved on as Veronica knelt next to the boy. His eyes grew wide and fearful at her approach

"What's your name?" she asked soothingly, trying to get the full extent of his injuries and to calm him.

"Thomas…but…everyone…everyone just…just calls me Tom," he said, still coughing and struggling for breath in between words, "Tom Mallory miss…I'm…the…a page to…to…Sir…Justin…"

"Well then Tom," she said kindly, putting her sword down, "This may feel a little funny, but it will be over soon."

Taking great care she moved her hands over his wounds and started to heal them. Tom gritted his teeth but the look of death that he bore left his eyes. He started shivering wildly; the shock from the magic and the cold night air a little much. Without even thinking about it Veronica pulled her cloak off of her and wrapped it around his shoulders. Something told her that she wouldn't need it for much longer.

"Now Tom," she said, "You need to go back to Camelot and go and tell King Gareth what happened. Tell him that Veronica Hunt sent you; soldiers need to be sent immediately to Merlin's Keep as well as any sorcerers in the area. It's an emergency."

Tom nodded and struggled to his feet.

"Of course," he said, and she saw the determination in his eyes, "I'll go on foot if necessary."

"I believe you," she said, giving him a wry smile and getting to her feet, "But you don't have to. There are two horses tied in the courtyard. I recommend the white mare; she's more docile and won't panic at a strange rider. Now go, quickly."

Tom nodded before he hurried out of the hall. Veronica looked briefly down at her sword before deciding to leave it. Where she was going she knew it would no longer be of any use and would only serve to weigh her down. Then she picked up her skirts and started run towards the practice room.

She couldn't have been delayed for more than a few minutes, she could make it before much else happened. Still, she wouldn't waste the extra seconds it would take to go around up the stairs and then down again. When she came to the wall that made up the southern end of the practice room she concentrated and melted through it.

The scene before her flooded her soul to its very recesses. Merlin was lying several feet away from her, bleeding from his stomach. Even though his chest still rose, it was in an erratic way. He was dying, too far gone for any healing spell. An ache appeared in her heart but she refused to stop looking, something told her that there was more to see.

His Incantus was resting on a stand, one of its pages torn. She didn't know which one, but she knew it couldn't be good. A small sense in the back of her head went off, recognizing magic and alerting her that Horvath had been there at one point. Since he wasn't there now though, she really wasn't concerned with him.

What she was concerned with was Morgana. She was standing in the middle of the room and laughing horribly. Balthazar was struggling to get up in front of her, evidently in a great deal of pain. She didn't know what had happened, but she could see from the remaining anger and determination in his eyes that he was very far from death. Veronica sighed in relief.

As he struggled Morgana started to summon up a plasma bolt in her hands. The movement was casual and leisurely, like she knew that she had a good deal of time to do it. It was more powerful and brighter than anything Veronica had conjured up in the past, and she knew without a doubt that it would kill him.

Veronica took it in in seconds. She made her decision just as quickly as well. Realistically she knew she was no match for Morgana. Anything she did would most likely serve only as a brief distraction before Morgana finished both her and Balthazar off. If the three apprentices had worked together then it might've been possible to take her on. That possibility no longer existed though. Still, she wasn't entirely powerless. There was one thing she could do; one thing that she had never before practiced but knew she was capable of.

Her hands stretched out and she concentrated. She started making a pulling motion with them and her ring glowed brightly. Morgana stopped her conjuring and contorted a little. Veronica continued pulling, tugging like she would on a rope. Briefly she caught sight of Balthazar staring at her in horror; he had heard of this spell but probably never seen it successfully performed. He probably didn't even know she knew how to do it.

After that Morgana started fighting back and Veronica knew that she had to start concentrating harder. To anyone outside of this it would've happened quickly, but to Veronica it seemed as if the spell was lasting for hours and hours. Morgana was fighting back hard, her soul clinging to her body.

She didn't have a chance though. Veronica had studied this spell since she was a girl of nine, locked in a cellar and reading it by the light that filtered through the floorboards. Nor was she fighting for herself like Morgana was. She was fighting for the man on the floor who was all that she had now, the only thing she cared about and couldn't stand to see lose. In that moment she didn't care if she was sacrificing herself, only if he lived.

Then, suddenly, the Arcana Nineve made sense. She was making a sacrifice now, but one of herself. The sacrifice wasn't going to be Balthazar at all, and that thought gave Veronica the strength to complete the spell. That part of the Arcana had never been circled, it had always been definite. No matter what happened, she was going to sacrifice herself right then and there.

With an odd sensation Veronica finally sucked Morgana's soul into her own. For a second she felt fine, and then it felt as though she were being ripped in two. Falling to her knees she struggled to take in breath, feeling something dark stirring in her veins. It was a pain beyond anything she had ever experienced before.

Gasping she wrapped her arms around her stomach for a minute. Morgana's soul would settle; it had to if she was to save him. Nothing in the scroll had mentioned this about the spell, only that it would be difficult to perform and that it should be used with caution. Just when she was beginning to think that everything was fine an earth-shattering scream pierced her mind;

"_**LET ME OUT!**__"_

"_No, never," _Veronica thought back fiercely, _"You've taken everyone else from me; my second mother, my Master, my friend, YOU'LL NOT TAKE HIM TOO!"_

The pain intensified and Veronica fell towards the floor, using her hands to stop herself from falling over. It felt as though Morgana was forcing herself up her throat, trying to somehow take over her. The thought of Morgana attacking Balthazar with her body horrified her and she fought back.

However, she couldn't use magic, not in the state that she was. She looked up to see Balthazar staring at her with a broken expression on his face. Pleading with her eyes she tried to let him understand that she wasn't completely in control, that Morgana was stronger than her inside of her own body, that he needed to stay away.

"_**I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL DO IT IF YOU DON'T LET ME OUT THIS INSTANT YOU FILTHY EXCUSE FOR A SORCERESS!**__"_

"_NO!" _Veronica screamed back.

Knowing that the fight would soon be over Veronica fought back, making a temporary shield of memories. She was five and running into her mother's arms, then nine and seeing her murdered. Merlin was travelling with her on the road and she met Morgause for the first time. Then there was her first glimpse of the boys she would share her life with. They were the boys who would become the men who would love her. There they were, the one who would lead her world to destruction and another who would take her into the greatest joy that she had ever known.

One minute she was dancing in her first ball, thrilled and uncertain by the feeling of Balthazar's skin. Blood from the manticore spurted into the air and the blood from Mary's delivery intermingled. Veronica picked up a daffodil and explained to Morgause that she was allowing Balthazar to court her. Then she was alone in Balthazar's room with him, trying her best to comfort him for his loss.

They were triumphant; her necklace broke into a million irreparable pieces. She kissed Balthazar for the first time and leaned into his touch in his attempt to comfort her for Morgause's death. Only hours ago she remembered wishing that she was his wife and fighting off Horvath. She could still feel that longing for a future she felt would never be now. All of the memories tumbled around in confusion, but they did the trick, holding off Morgana for a few more precious seconds.

Balthazar picked up something from the table. He looked at it in revulsion before turning to her with desperation in his eyes. Looking at it closely Veronica could see that it was the Grimhold. Once more she tried to communicate with her eyes, being in too much pain to tell him with words, to do it, to put her in it. They both knew that he knew how.

"_**NO! NOT IN THERE!**__" _Morgana howled.

Fingers trembling Balthazar opened the Grimhold. It started to pull Veronica in; she could feel herself fading from the physical realm. She cast one last look at Balthazar and tried to tell him that she'd done this for him, that he was doing the right thing, and how much she loved him. Just before she was taken in completely by the Grimhold she saw his expression. As always, he understood her.


	39. Epilogue

Mary knew it was him as soon as she saw him in the market. He was standing next to the blacksmith's shop, surreptitiously checking to see if anyone was there. No, no one would be there. Paul had all but stopped working as his hair grayed and Stephan was out helping her run errands. He'd just been sent to go and pay off their debt at the butcher's shop.

She wondered at first if it was the right man; strangers from all walks of life did come through their town. It had also been many years since Veronica had shown her the picture in the Incantus. Quickly she dismissed her doubts. She had taken care to memorize the features of her friend's love and now she just doubted herself.

From somewhere deep inside her she summoned up the courage to walk over to him and say, with as much steadiness as she could muster;

"Lord Balthazar?"

He whipped around and looked at her. He looked surprised, then wary.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, his eyes flickering downward to examine her hand.

Mary almost laughed out loud when she realized that he was trying to figure out if she was a sorceress.

"Veronica told me," she said, "Showed me a picture in the Incantus six years ago. Told me all about you."

Suddenly all of the rigid tenseness disappeared from his shoulders.

"You're Mary then," he said tiredly, "I came here looking for you."

"And she is not with you?" she asked, "I…she…she told me that…"

"I know," he said, again tired but with pain in his eyes, "She told me that she told you. But no, she's not here."

"Then it is true what they're saying," she said quietly, "She is dead, isn't she?"

"No," he answered fiercely, "No she isn't. She's alive…just…trapped."

He turned away, sounding miserable. Slowly he pulled a sack out of his pocket and handed it in her direction. Curiously she took it.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Her jewels," he said, "She didn't have much in life…but I knew she'd probably want you to have them. She was always talking about coming back and giving you some, you and your daughters."

"And you, her love, keeps nothing?" she asked, not even looking in the sack.

"I have…something," he said, but didn't elaborate.

Sighing Mary stared down at the small velvet sack.

"She's not coming back then, is she?"

"Not in your lifetime, no," Balthazar said, "In mine only because I'm going to live until my quest is completed."

She decided not to ask him; part of her knew it would just bring this already haunted man more pain. She didn't have an opportunity anyway, as Stephan came up behind her quickly. His eyes flickered down to the man's rings, and he tried to straighten himself up to his rather unimpressive fifteen-year old height. Despite being a blacksmith he had stayed stringy, which belied his considerable skill at his work.

"Is he bothering you?" he asked importantly.

"No," laughed Mary, "This is Balthazar, a friend of Veronica's. Balthazar, my brother Stephan."

Instantly the teenage swagger faded. Stephan executed a short bow.

"It's my honor to meet you sir."

Balthazar smiled at Stephan's formality.

"You're rather brave," he said, "You saw I was a sorcerer, yet you tried to protect your sister even when you knew I could turn you into a pig."

The boy smiled nervously.

"Sorcerers don't frighten me."

"You're also an awful liar," Balthazar smiled.

Stephan's mouth opened once, and then he shrugged as though he decided it wasn't worth pretending anymore.

"She's my sister," he said simply.

"Good, very good," Balthazar said, reaching into his pocket, "I'd like to show you something…"

Mary watched with interest as he pulled a small box out of his pocket. Opening it he revealed a small statue of a dragon. Stephan looked at it curiously.

"Hold out your hand," he said.

Stephan obeyed and the dragon was placed on the palm of his head. For a moment nothing happened, it just sat there lifelessly. Then Mary could've sworn that she saw the tail twitch. Stephan continued to look at it for a minute, and then he looked up at Balthazar in curiosity.

"Is it supposed to do something?" he asked.

Balthazar stared at it strangely.

"Well, that's more than it's done before…" he muttered, "But no, it's not like it would be that easy, would it?"

Without another word on the matter he took the dragon statue out of Stephan's hand and put it back in the box.

"That's all I came for," he said, "And to tell you one thing; things are going to be more dangerous now. King Gareth is the best man for the job, but he's lost his royal sorcerers. Many villages are killing those who would've taken their places. Arthur's peace is gone. Nothing is going to be the way it was. This country will be invaded soon, mark my words."

"It's kind of you to warn us, but what about you?" asked Mary, "Aren't things going to be more dangerous for you as well?"

He grinned bitterly.

"Oh yes," he said, "But I've really got nothing left to lose."

Turning on his heel he strode out of the market. Mary and Stephan watched him go until they couldn't see him anymore. Then Stephan turned to her and asked tentatively;

"Is he right? Do you think things are really going to get worse?"

Mary shrugged.

"Perhaps," she said, "but we're a hardy breed, we come from a strong family with a strong name."

"You're an Ashdown now though," he observed, smiling.

"I was born with it even if I no longer bear it," answered Mary pertly.

She turned to him and smiled slightly.

"You and I Stephan, we're Stutlers," she said, "And we can survive anything."

_**A/N: **__And that's the end of 'The Third Apprentice'. Thank you so much for all of the reviews and comments. The sequel, detailing Balthazar's battle with Horvath in the 1930's, 'New York Minute', will appear sometime early next week. Thanks again everyone!_


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